Regrets
by WalkingWit
Summary: Reincarnation story. Ever since she was a child, she dreamed of valiant knights, death, destruction, and magic. Blue eyes haunt her dreams and she surely thinks she's insane. She doesn't dream of seeing those blue eyes in real life. She does, and faints.
1. Shake it Out

**Reincarnation fic. Set to Florence and the Machine's Shake it Out. I got the idea for this after having a Merlin-inspired dream. It's weird, because my cousin regularly calls me "Morgana" because I have super long, dark curly hair. And I'm ridiculously pale. I also have a golden-haired brother and my cousin firmly believes I'm evil and practicing spells in my room, plotting their demise.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Regrets<strong>

_Regrets collect like old friends_  
><em> Here to relive your darkest moments<em>  
><em> I can see no way, I can see no way<em>  
><em> And all of the ghouls come out to play<em>

She's been having these nightmares since she was a child. She'd dream of billowing red cloaks, valiant knights, and a land of myth in a time of magic. She'd wake up in a cold sweat, fearing her room would be consumed by fire. It never was. She would creep into her mother's room and crawl onto her large bed. She'd ask her what's wrong, then pull her into a hug. Gentle fingers would untangled the mess of dark curls reassuringly. It was then that the nightmares subsided. After a few months, her mother tired of her fear. After all, it was just a dream.

That's when she started drawing and writing down everything she saw. She's kept the notebooks and pictures in a little shelf in her flat.

Now she's an adult. She doesn't live near her mum. She can't very well call her every time she has a dream where she made a man fight an entire army on his own. All she can do is cry as she watches herself torture a man with striking blue eyes. She rushes to the shelf, and pulls out the notebooks. She starts drawing again, as a way to calm herself or to somehow get her memory back. But the blue eyes always haunt her.

She tries to convince herself that they're just dreams. There's no such thing as past lives. That's ridiculous. She's not a witch, she can't do magic, and she's not evil. She tries to convince herself she's not evil and demented, but sometimes when she's all alone in her tiny flat, the thoughts of another lifetime consume her. The dreams are all too vivid to not be real.

The people in her college classes think she's aloof and a snob. She doesn't want them to see that she once slaughtered innocent people. If she starts to talk about Camelot as if it was real, they will surely think her insane. So she keeps to herself and stays out of everyone's way. She's not the Lady Morgana who needs to be the centre of attention (she _never was_).

No one will know of the dreams that haunt her. After all, they're just dreams.

_ And every demon wants his pound of flesh_  
><em> But I like to keep some things to myself<em>  
><em> I like to keep my issues drawn<em>  
><em> It's always darkest before the dawn<em>

She browses through the shelves of the bookstore. How she found herself in the mythology section, she had no idea. It's like her feet led her there without her brain's consent. So she picks up a book because the font looks familiar (and oddly comforting).

"Arthurian Legends" was emblazoned across the cover page in gold font. She flipped through the pages, and her heart nearly stopped.

Camelot, Merlin, Arthur, Uther, Gwen, everything comes rushing back to her. She keeps reading, knuckles turning white. "Morgan le Fay" was a witch and King Arthur's half sister. They have another sister named Morgause.

Her name is Morgana. She has a brother. But he's no King. He's just a spoiled little teenager. She doesn't have a dad, let alone one that's a tyrant. She vaguely remembers the man. She looked nothing like him. She takes after her mother (dark hair, same skin tone and bone structure). It's after a few moments of thought that she remembers her father left her mother for another woman, and that she had a long lost half sibling somewhere out there. All of the pieces are starting to fir together, but she still tries to convince herself it means nothing.

She takes a deep breath and in her mind's eye, the man with blue eyes stares at her. She drops the book, needing to get fresh air. She practically runs out of the bookstore, garnering odd stares.

As she pushes the glass door open, she collides with a tall man. She looks up to apologise, but then she sees those eyes.

"Merlin," she breathes and everything goes black.

_ And I've been a fool and I've been blind_  
><em> I can never leave the past behind<em>  
><em> I can see no way, I can see no way<em>  
><em> I'm always dragging that horse around<em>

She wakes up, groggy. She is definitely not in her room, let alone her flat. The walls are painted a comforting blue, and the couch she was on was a dark green. She sits up, taking in her surroundings. Coffee table, a dusty television set in the corner, and a bookshelf on the side wall. She unties her hair from the bun it was in, letting it tumble around her shoulders down to her waist. She sits upright, biting her lip. The man, Merlin, comes in holding a cup of water and offers her a small smile.

"Water?" he asks.

She nods and takes the cup from him. Her fingertips brush against his hand ever so briefly, and she feels a jolt. She fights a blush and drinks the water. She looks at him, now settled on the chair across from the couch.

His face is exactly as it was in her dreams. Large ears, clear blue eyes, and impossibly beautiful cheekbones. She shakes her head, looking down.

"This isn't possible," she whispers before looking up at him. She fights the tears welling up in her eyes. If this is all real, it means she was an evil monster. She had spent her entire life trying to be a nice person and kind to everyone. Perhaps her subconscious is trying to make her atone for her past sins. "This is crazy."

"Morgana," his voice sounds heavy.

She can't stop the tears anymore. Her shoulders shake and she looks at her lap, tears dropping onto the denim of her jeans. She feels a weight shift next to her and a protective arm wrap around her shoulder. She leans into him, tears staining his blue shirt.

Her tears subside and she mumbles into his chest, "How can you be so nice to me? I'm evil."

He lets out a low chuckle and his fingers brush through her hair as if he'd done that millions of times before.

"You're not evil. You were just misguided," Merlin says.

"I killed people," she says flatly. The guilt settles into her chest and she feels worse than she ever has.

Merlin's hand cups her chin, making her look at him. Blue meets green and he brushes the tears from her pale face.

"That was a long time ago. You have no idea how long I've been looking for you," he says, searching for signs of acceptance.

She shakes her head, "It doesn't erase the lives I've ruined. The people I hurt. I hurt you."

"It was mutual hurting," he admits.

She sees him give her a pouch and the next thing she knows he's holding her as she chokes to her apparently imminent death.

"You should've killed me when you had the change. Before I hurt everyone," she says.

_ All of his questions, such a mournful sound_  
><em> Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground<em>  
><em> So I like to keep my issues drawn<em>  
><em> But it's always darkest before the dawn<em>

He doesn't speak anymore. He pulls Morgana into his arms, holding her close. She wraps her arms around him, feeling like a little girl. She rests her head on his chest. Here they are, two strangers (well, not really), wrapped in an embrace. It feels right. His fingers still run through her hair, and she relaxes in his hold.

"You have no idea how long I've been looking for you," he finally speaks.

Her eyes flit up too meet his, and all she can see is remorse and pain. She caused that pain. She hates herself a little more. She doesn't answer, and lets him continue.

"In each life, I set out looking for you. You were never there. Maybe Arthur, or Gwen, or Lancelot, or Uther, but you were never there," he murmurs.

Morgana wants to say something. Maybe she wasn't meant to be alive again? Her wrongdoings of the past kept her from returning to earth.

"I've been looking for you for over a thousand years," he closes his eyes, as if remembering his searches.

She bites her lip and furrows her brow.

"I have a younger brother. His name is Arthur," she says quietly.

Merlin opens his eyes, surprised.

"He's fifteen. And a prat," she elaborates.

"Sounds like Arthur," he grins.

"But how can I remember all of this, and he can't?" she asks.

He shrugs, "Probably because you're a seer. And have magic."

She shakes her head vehemently. He looks like he wants her to continue about Arthur, but she can't bear to drag her innocent baby brother into the madness. He's a well-adjusted, if a little bratty. She'd like for him to stay that way. Knowledge that he was once a king would make his ego larger than England itself.

"I don't have magic. This must be some mistake."

She disentangles herself from Merlin and stands up. She clutches her aching head and she looks as if she's about to collapse. Fainting twice in one day in front of a total stranger was not her plan.

_ Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah_  
><em> Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah<em>

Morgana spots the door. She opens it, but it slams shut. She turns around to see Merlin's eyes return to their usual blue after flashing gold. Her eyes widen, and he moves to her. His arms wrap around her waist and pull her into a hug. She buries her head on his shoulder, because that's how short she is, barely reaching his shoulder. He inhales the scent of her hair. Somehow, it's exactly as he remembered. There's so much to talk about. So many things they'd left unspoken. So much hurt to get through.

_ And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_  
><em> So shake him off, oh woah<em>

She's back on the couch, sitting cross legged. A mug of coffee sits on the table next to his tea. She doesn't even know what time it is, but it didn't matter. She was with Merlin. It's like a piece of her had been missing. This grand puzzle piece had found her. They'd found each other. It's serendipity, or fate, or what have you. Maybe it was the universe finally setting things right.

She still can't believe he carried her all the way back to his flat. That's beside the point, though.

Merlin had been through countless lifetimes and could recall them. Morgana can only remember Camelot. It confirms her theory that she was never meant to return to earth. Surely she'll cause death and destruction wherever she went.

_ I am done with my graceless heart_  
><em> So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart<em>  
><em> Cause I like to keep my issues drawn<em>  
><em> It's always darkest before the dawn<em>

Both of them are emotionally spent. Exhausted. Merlin filled her in on what he'd been up to the past 1500 years. She listened intently, carefully, for any mention that she might have been there. Centuries without Merlin seem to be the worst thing she can imagine.

The digital clock on the old TV reads 04:18. She has class in the morning (in four hours, to be exact), but she can't bring herself to leave. To hell with her history class. She finally feels validated. She's not crazy. She finally met the man with the blue eyes who had haunted her dreams since she was a child.

He tells her about how he always found someone from Camelot, anyone. But never her. He looks wistful as he recalls the first time he saw her, through a window the day he arrived. The day of an execution.

Merlin casually flicks his hand toward the kitchen lights, extinguishing it. Morgana watches in slight jealousy. Her magic is gone. He tells her it isn't. He tells her to concentrate.

It takes two hours, but she finally has a glowing orb in her hands. She throws her arms around Merlin's neck, smiling, before retreating back to her corner of the couch.

_ Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah_  
><em> Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah<em>

_ And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_  
><em> So shake him off, oh woah<em>

For that brief moment, Merlin sees the old Morgana return. Not the vengeful witch, but the confident, passionate one. He barely recognised her at the book store. Physically she looks the same, but her posture makes it seem like she's trying to shield herself from the world. She's too drawn into herself, too quiet, too worried, too fearful. She's everything she should never be and he blames himself for not trying to reach out to her sooner back when they were still them and they didn't have to adjust to radios and TVs and phones and everything else.

_ And given half the chance would I take any of it back_  
><em> It's a final mess but it's left me so empty<em>  
><em> It's always darkest before the dawn<em>

Morgana's head rests on his chest, fist clenching his shirt, as if she's afraid he's going to disappear.

"I'm so sorry," she says finally, eyes heavy.

He gulps and squeezes her shoulder, "New life. New chances. The past is the past."

He doesn't quite believe it himself, because they are the past. Past, present, future. It's always going to be them.

_ And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_  
><em> So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road<em>  
><em> And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope<em>  
><em> It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat<em>  
><em> Cause looking for heaven, for the devil in me<em>  
><em> Looking for heaven, for the devil in me<em>  
><em> Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me<em>

She falls asleep on top of her once arch-nemesis just as dawn was breaking. He summons a blanket for them, and covers them with it. He drops a kiss to her forehead and she snuggles closer next to him.

This felt right. He decides then and there that the universe finally heard him, loud and clear. He has Morgana back, and he's not about to let go of her any time soon.

His arms squeeze around her tighter and she smiles in her sleep. She's not insane. Or evil. She can fix what she ruined so long ago. There's hope for her miserable soul yet.

_ Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah_  
><em> Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah<em>

_ And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_  
><em> So shake him off, oh woah<em>

For the first time since she stopped going to her mother whenever she had a nightmare, Morgana sleeps peacefully. Merlin's neck is at an angle, one leg dangling off of the couch. She uses his chest as a pillow, arms wrapped around his stomach. One hand rests on her hip, while his other hand tries to hold the blanket up.

She doesn't think she can ever forgive herself for her misdeeds as Morgan le Fay, but Morgana thinks she might be able to live with it if she has Merlin by her side. She can right her wrongs and move on to a life without worries and guilt.

He's Merlin and she's Morgana. It's always been them, and always will be, whether in Camelot or in London or wherever they end up next.

(And yes, Morgana has hope that she'll meet Merlin again in her next life.)

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><p><strong>The end! I hope it wasn't cliched or anything. I just really had to write this. Please review!<strong>


	2. Waking Up

**I've decided to continue this, thanks to the suggestion of a reviewer. Hopefully this is an enjoyable read.**

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><p><strong>Waking Up<strong>

Her neck aches and her eyes flutter open. She looks around, taking in her surroundings. She recognises the flat and the body she was currently on top of. _Merlin. _Her heart flutters, like it used to when she stared him down before a battle, smirk gracing her lips.

His arm tightens around her and she can't help but smile. He mumbles sleepily, something about Kilgarrah. She disentangles herself from his arms, and immediately feels cold. She bites her lip as she looks at the clock. 13:20. Her sole class is long over, and it's Friday anyway. She's a bit disorientated from everything that had happened the night before. She finally knows the truth, and wonders if her little brother Arthur is the same Arthur from Camelot. Suddenly, she snorts. That would mean his best friend Gwen is Guinevere.

Morgana isn't quite sure what to do. Merlin is still asleep and she's in her clothes from the day before. She feels disgusting. Her flat is miles away, and she wishes she could remember the transport spell.

She decides to explore his flat, hoping he doesn't mind. After all, they've known each other for centuries. Centuries that she didn't get to see because she's certain she'd been banished for her wrongdoings.

She shakes her head in an attempt to clear it. There's a small kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Before she can stop herself, she's in the bathroom, staring at her reflection. Her eyes have dark circles underneath them, and are slightly puffy from her crying. Her hair is tangled and hangs limply down her back, scraggly ends hitting her waist. She takes the hairband on her wrist and sweeps her hair into a bun. She lets the water run and splashes her face. Her green tee shirt is wrinkled, but it'll have to do.

At least now, she looks a bit more presentable.

She makes her way back to the living room to see Merlin folding the blanket.

"Morning," she greets shyly, even though it's well into the afternoon.

He turns around, smiling. He thinks she may have left, but he's glad she's there.

"Good morning, my Lady," he greets out of habit, and her heart stops entirely.

She can see him wearing his worn shirt and loose trousers, the neckerchief tied around his neck. To him, the green shirt transforms into her deep green dress.

Morgana's lips quirk into a small grin, "I'm not royalty anymore."

"You'll always be Lady Morgana to me," he says without thinking. She blushes, and he has to admit that he's never seen her be so bashful before. She once oozed confidence, and now she's a shy girl.

She scratches her arm awkwardly and decides it's best to bring up another topic.

"I missed my class today," she says lightly.

"Sorry," he apologises, though there's no need.

"No. It was just history. I'll be fine not going for a day," she shrugs it off.

Truth be told, she's glad she missed her class. Today's Friday, and the whole weekend is ahead of her. Hopefully she and Merlin and discuss Camelot a bit more. She finally has someone who understands her, and she's not going to let him go.

He smiles at her, as if expecting her to disappear. Merlin shakes his head and heads into the kitchen.

"Breakfast, er, lunch?" he asks, noting the time.

She nods slightly and watches as he turns on the kettle for coffee and pulls out a box of cereal and two bowls.

"I'm not much of a cook," he tells her.

"I don't mind," she takes a seat at the small table crammed against the wall.

He sits down across from her, and this feels right. Their hands brush together as they reach for the milk at the same time. She pulls away, as if shocked by the contact.

Once finished, Merlin piles the bowls into the sink. His eyes flash and the bowls clean themselves.

"Show off," she crosses her arms, jealous that he has his magic and hers is still there, but weak from disuse.

He grins at her, mouth lopsided, and her jealousy melts.

"I guess I should get going," she says awkwardly.

She's been at his flat for the better part of nearly two days. She's certain her phone has missed calls from her mother, since they chat at least once a week.

"Right," he leads her to the door.

"Where's my bag?" she asks suddenly, remembering she was in the bookstore after class, and her bag was with her then.

"Right," his eyes widen and he goes back to the living room, picking it up from behind the couch. He hands it to her and their hands meet once again.

He licks his lips and she wants to find out if they still taste the same, but she remains rooted in her spot at the door.

"Do you need a lift?"

"I can take the tube," she says.

"I'll take you home, it's fine," he goes into the building's hallway with her and locks the door.

They walk downstairs, and Morgana notices he's on the last floor and the lift is out of order. Did he carry her the entire way yesterday?

His car is in the car park, small, blue, and old. She likes it. She gives him her address and she gives instructions as he drives. She rolls the window down, letting the autumn breeze hit her face. It was refreshing after a day cooped up inside. Fifteen minutes later, they're parked in front of her building, but she can't seem to move.

"Do you want to come up for some tea?" she asks, playing with her thumbs.

"Yeah, sounds nice," he offers her a little grin and she relaxes.

They leave his car, heading up to her flat. She fumbles with the keys before prying the door open. He takes in her living room. Steel gray walls, a small blue couch and a desk piled with papers and textbooks. She unceremoniously drops her over sized bag next to the books.

"Make yourself at home, I'll just be a few minutes," she says hurriedly, rushing to her room.

Merlin sits on the couch, looking around. He finds a picture of a woman resembling Morgana, Morgana herself, and a blonde teenager. Arthur. He's sure of it. They even have the same cocky grin. He snorts to himself and shakes his head. He wonders if the old king remembers him?

He's shaken out of his thoughts when he hears the water in the bathroom turn on. His cheeks turn red at the knowledge that a bathing Morgana was in the next room.

He decides to look at her textbooks to distract himself, and plucks "The Rise and Fall of the Soviet Union" from her desk. He's sure she won't mind. He flips through, smiling faintly at the sight of her writing crammed into the margins. Even her cursive has remained the same. His eyes wander around the room. There's a painting of a lake hanging above her desk, and he can't help but think it's Avalon. Upon closer inspection, he notes that the bottom is signed "Morgana". His suspicions are confirmed, especially when he sees the sketches of familiar lands and faces. One in particular catches his eye. It was him. All big eared and blue eyed, his face stares back at him. A scarf is tied around his neck and he's smiling. He hasn't smiled so broadly in quite a while. He sniffs and rubs his eyes. He's not going to cry.

He hears the water turn off and sits down on the couch, book in hand. Morgana walks into the room, wearing a deep purple shirt and jeans. Her hair is wet, as is the back of her shirt.

"Good read, eh?" she asks conversationally.

"Yeah," he nods, looking at her. She seems more comfortable in her own home, and the Morgana he remembers seems to be coming back.

She shuffles into the kitchen to prepare tea, and while she's at it, she hits her answering machine.

_"I've left you three messages and called your mobile. Are you alright? Not answering your phone makes me worry," _a woman's voice rang through.

Morgana rolls her eyes and looks at Merlin apologetically. She hands the freshly prepared mug of tea to him. He takes it gratefully, watching as she picks up the phone.

"Hi mum," she greets nonchalantly.

Merlin wishes he could hear both sides of the conversation, because Morgana's face started to scrunch up in annoyance. He knows that face well.

"I was busy studying. I have an exam next week so I turned off my mobile," she lies through her teeth and Merlin can't help but be impressed.

"I don't know if I'm coming home tonight," she bites her lip. She'd go home every other weekend to see her mum and brother, but she doesn't want to this particular weekend.

Merlin tenses. He thought they'd be able to spend the weekend together, getting reacquainted with one another and talking about their pasts, their presents, their futures. Morgana looks to him to see a fallen expression.

"I think it's best if I stay home and study. It's an important exam," she lies easily, gauging Merlin's reaction. He looks to be in a better mood and she smiles.

"Right. Send Arthur my love. Bye."

She practically slams the phone onto the counter and takes a deep breath.

"Sorry about that," she says and he just smiles. Her mother in this life sounds as protective as Uther was.

She sits down next to him and stares at her mug of tea, unsure of what to say.

"Do you want to go to dinner tonight?" Merlin asks suddenly, "nothing too fancy or anything," he clarifies upon seeing her stunned face.

"Sure, that sounds nice," she smiles lightly at him.

After they finish their tea, he stands up to leave. He'll see Morgana again tonight, and he had a feeling he'll be grinning like an idiot, matching the broad grin in Morgana's drawing.

* * *

><p>Morgana slides hanger after hanger aside as she tries to find something to wear. Oh, to once again have the dresses from Camelot, fit for a princess. She eyes a dark magenta dress, in a halter style. She remembers buying it because it seemed familiar, and now she knows why. With her shoulders and back exposed, it nearly matches the long gown she once owned. Except this one reaches to just above her knee.<p>

She forgoes heels for short boots. They're more comfortable to walk in and Merlin had said dinner would be nothing fancy. She shrugs a black blazer on due to the autumn chill and deems herself ready. Her hair is arranged in neat curls, pinned up, a single curl hanging in front of her face. Her lips are dark pink and for the first time in a long time, she feels like the Lady Morgana. Before the resentment and her descent into madness and evil, she'd been a girl, loved by the people. Oh, to be that girl again. She knows it can never be, but she can still pretend she's back in Camelot, can't she?

Merlin arrives on the time they agreed on, and he's wearing a dark blue button up shirt and black trousers. He too is wearing a blazer and she can't help but want to give him a scarf and tell him to tuck his trousers into his boots.

He offers her his arm and she takes it, unable to breathe.

"My Lady," he greets quietly.

She looks up at him, heart pounding, and smiles.

He takes in her appearance and immediately remembers the first time he saw her up close, when she was changing and he'd handed her that dark pink dress. Then he'd seen her at the feast and couldn't help but stare. That dress, those shoulders, her eyes and teasing grin.

He has to shake his head to get the image of her lips out of his mind. As he drives, he glances at her from the corner of his eye. Always beautiful. Always.

* * *

><p>Merlin nearly has a heart attack as she shrugs off the blazer that had been covering her up. The dress is nearly an exact replica, only it's shorter and not made of expensive silks.<p>

They sit across from her, her foot brushing up against his occasionally. She scans her menu and he looks at her from behind his own menu, watching her lick her lips in thought. Oh yes, the old confident Morgana was returning.

They order their food. Neither of them pay much attention to what they are actually eating.

"I'm sorry," Morgana apologises for her misdeeds.

His hand reaches out and holds her hand. His thumb runs over her knuckles. She fights a gasp.

"Stop it, Morgana. We can move on," he says earnestly and she wants to believe him.

She takes a bite of whatever it was she's ordered and chews slowly.

"What happened? All I remember is Arthur hurt, and dead knights," she asks quietly. She remembers her shock and unwelcome sadness at seeing a lifeless Gwaine on the ground. She had done that.

Merlin takes a deep breath, "Everyone but a handful died. Mordred's entire army was decimated."

She nods to make him keep going.

"Arthur was severely wounded, dying. You took him to Avalon to heal his wounds. You were weak and I couldn't do anything to help you."

She furrows her brow, confused.

"You trapped me in a tree," he blurts out. Her eyes widen and suddenly, she remembers. She wanted to keep him safe during the battle, so she turned him into a tree.

"How long?" she asks, ashamed.

"Spell was broken when you died. Your magic faded once you did," he takes her hand again, noticing her eyes welling with tears.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted you to be safe. It's the only thing I could think of. You'd go rushing in to save Arthur and Mordred was going to kill you," her memories flooded back to her, and she was nearly hysterical.

"Shh, it's okay," he tries to soothe her. He hates himself for upsetting her, for not being able to save her.

He asks the waiter for the check, and he shakes his head as Morgana reaches for the bill. She takes her wallet from the purse and Merlin stops her.

"On me," he says. She glares at him, glad for the distraction from her misery.

"I'll pay for my food, it's the 21st century," she says.

"But you're a lady. I invited you, thus I pay," he says smoothly.

She rolls her eyes, hiding a smile, "I pay next time."

"Sure," he's just glad he's gotten her to not dwell on the past.

* * *

><p>They find themselves back in his flat. Her blazer is draped on the coat rack with his jacket, her boots next to his shoes. She makes herself comfortable on the couch, because this place is already starting to feel like a second home.<p>

"I saw a picture of your family in your flat," Merlin brings up as they eat ice cream.

"So you saw Arthur?" she asks.

"He looks exactly the same," he chuckles.

"I don't think he remembers. Has remembered before?" she bites her lip.

Merlin considers this, "The last time I saw him was during World War Two. He was a general. He remembered me and gave me a hug. Haven't seen him since."

Morgana sighs. She's sure that if her brother remembers now, he'd bring it up. She wonders if the half-sibling she never met is, in fact, Morgause. She sets the bowl of ice cream down on the coffee table, tucking her feet under her.

"I'm glad you didn't go home this weekend," he says quietly.

"Me too," she smiles at him.

Before he can stop himself, he reaches forward, brushing his thumb against her lips.

"Ice cream," he stammers, thumb still on her face.

She feels lightheaded and all she can do is nod. He moves his hand back to his side, ears turning red. She licks her lips, at the spot his fingers just were. His eyes are trained on her lips, and she can't stand the tension in the room. It's been a thousand years and she scoots herself closer to him. His breath hitches and she's a little cocky now because she still has that effect on him.

"Merlin," she says quietly, face mere centimeters away from his.

Her hair had come undone sometime in the evening, and now sits around her shoulders and pronounced collarbone. He thinks she looks like an angel.

"Yes?" he's equally quiet, afraid anything louder than a whisper would ruin this trance they were both in.

"Kiss me," she doesn't command or ask. She states it plainly.

"Yes, my lady," he leans forward, gently rubbing her lips with his.

Her arms entwine around his neck and he pushes himself against her. She's happy to note that his lips do taste the same. She's glad they're sitting because she'd probably fall right at this very moment. Her mind goes back to the stolen kisses in the deserted halls of the castle, his breath on her skin. She smiles into the kiss, not daring to open her eyes, lest this is a dream.

She leans against the back of the couch. His hands run through her hair and she can imagine them in her hovel. The memories are a bit murky, but now it's as if she was never anyone but the Lady Morgana and Morgana le Fay.

If this was any other person, she'd think herself insane, to be kissing a boy she met a day ago. But this isn't just any boy. This boy is Merlin, the same boy who had softened her cruel heart so long ago.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review<strong>**! Reviews keep me writing.**


	3. Realisations

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* * *

><p><strong>Realisations<strong>

She dreams of fire, a mystical lake, and sad blue eyes begging her not to do this. She's a lot older, gray wisps tangling with dark hair. She sees herself bite her lip and whisper "There's no other way" before the man she loves transforms, a tree in his place. Her heart aches as she watches the battle unfold. There's Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival, leaning on each other for support while they're being attacked from all sides. Her heart blanches as she sees Mordred, the once innocent Druid boy, summon everything in his powers to kill Arthur Pendragon. She knows now that she has chosen the wrong side. That they all should have worked together to bring peace and prosperity to Camelot. It's too late to go back. She runs between them while Arthur falls to his near death, taking down the little boy she once bonded with. She takes her brother to the waters of Avalon to heal him, using all of her powers. Before he can even manage a thank you, she's gone.

Her eyes open, startled at her dream. She places a hand on her chest, taking in her surroundings. A small bedroom with a dresser and a tiny wardrobe, shoes on the wood floor, her dress and his trousers in a pile. She relaxes. The pale blue walls the same colour as the living room, have a calming effect on her.

For the second day in a row, Morgana wakes up in Merlin's arms. She smiles to herself, glad she bumped into him on her way out of the bookstore. It was fate that he happened to be there. She glances at the clock. 10:00. She decides she can lay in bed a bit longer. Her assignments for her classes can most definitely wait.

Merlin mumbles a 'morning' and presses a kiss to her hair. She kisses his cheek, in turn. He props himself up on his elbows, serene expression on his face.

"Sleep well?" she asks.

"Yes, my lady," he says, taking in her appearance. Disheveled hair, glowing skin, and his button down blue shirt currently hanging off her frame. He thinks it looks better on her anyway.

She blushes again at the "my lady" and swings her legs off of the bed. Her dress from the evening before is on a heap on the floor, and she smirks at the mess they had made.

His arm snakes around her and pulls her back onto the bed, not willing to let her go.

"Don't you have a job or something?" she asks teasingly, but genuinely curious.

"I'm not a manservant, that's for sure," he says.

She rolls her eyes, waiting for elaboration.

"I work odd jobs here and there," he shrugs.

"A real renaissance man, huh?" she raises a brow and he chuckles.

"Pretty much. Renaissance wasn't really all it's cracked up to be," he jokes.

Her face drops at the mention of a life she had missed. She recovers quickly and her poker face is in place once more.

"Morgana," his fingers tickle her warm skin, "stay."

She wants to. A lot. But she's not the king's ward or a sorceress. She has a normal life and homework and classes to study for. She also currently has nothing to wear because her dress is wrinkled and on the floor. She thinks she should've gone home after that kiss, but Merlin's insistence won her over. So instead of sleeping uncomfortably in a dress, he took off his shirt and handed it to her. She went into the bathroom to change, and by the time she went into his room, he was already wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt.

"I have nothing to wear," she points out.

"That doesn't bother me," he blurts out before he can stop himself. He mentally kicks himself. How can he just say something so stupid? She's going to think he's a pervert now. To his surprise, she lets out a short laugh.

"As much as I would love lounging around and talking to you, I have work to do," she rolls out of his grasp.

She stretches and begins to unbutton the shirt. Merlin rests his hand on his chin, watching.

"Merlin!" she swats his arm.

"Don't mind me. It's not like I haven't seen you naked before," he's grinning mirthfully at the memories of his sneaking into her hovel late at night. His smile fades when he remembers how they both tried to drag the night out as long as possible. She'd watch him leave in the morning, face blank. It wasn't like he could openly see her when she was Camelot's number one enemy.

"That was a long time ago," Morgana fiddles with a button. He sighs in resignation, acknowledging she's right.

"How 'bout this: I take you back to your flat. You can change, get your books, whatever you need, and then come back here?" he suggests. He wants to spend the day talking to her. It's refreshing, being around her in the daytime, considering their past sneaking around. They barely scratched the surface of bringing her memories back and getting reacquainted with one another.

She mulls it over for a moment, "Fine."

He rolls off of the bed, taking her hand.

"What're you doing?" she raises a brow.

"Transport," he answers as if it's obvious.

The words of the Old Religion fill her ears and she can feel her stomach churn in excitement. She closes her eyes and opens them to find herself and Merlin in the middle of her living room. She feels breathless at the rush of magic. She can feel her fingertips sparkling with electricity, her eyes threatening to flash gold.

"Do you still have your spell books?" she asks him, letting go of his hand.

"Of course," he replies, happy to know she wants to practice.

* * *

><p>Why she lugged her textbooks to Merlin's, she doesn't know. There's not going to be much academic study going on. Wearing worn jeans and a silver and purple shirt (and Merlin's baggy jeans and dark purple shirt nearly matching her own ensemble) the two sit on the rug across from each other.<p>

The ancient spell book is in front of them. The sacred words of the Old Religion are right in front of her, and she feels the magic inside her stir and hum.

Merlin holds both her hands in his. Their eyes are closed and he tells her to clear her mind. She finds that difficult to do, as images of Camelot and Arthur and Merlin and war flash before her. She sees herself sacrifice her own sister, bring back Lancelot to use him for her own gain, and watch as Merlin (Emrys) attacks her despite her injuries. She sees herself wield a dagger, pressing it to Merlin's throat. She does her best not to let out a cry of terror.

She feels Merlin in her mind, telling her to calm down.

**"****Galdorcræft **áwæcnan**,"** Merlin begins to recite from memory, voice low and hoarse. He doesn't need to look at the book.

Morgana feels heat rising in her, white and black magic fight a battle within her. She can't let the black magic win. She's not evil anymore. In her mind she sees the black overcome the white and she feels ill. No, the wrong side was winning.

"Concentrate, Morgana, you choose what wins," Merlin tells her quietly.

She feels like she's going to throw up, but tries to focus anyway. She sees her save Arthur in her mind's eye, she sees the innocent people she fought for once, a long time ago. She can do this. The words course through her mind effortlessly, as if they've never left her. All they needed was to be reawakened.

**"Áblícan** **oferswíðan** **se** **déaþscúa**," the words and power of the Old Religion flow through her veins and she sees the white light grow larger and larger, overtaking the dark magic that tried to catch hold in her once more.

She opens her eyes, and they flash gold. The lights in the living room start to turn on and off. The kettle turns on along with the stove. The curtains open and close. The doors to the bedroom and bathroom open and shut repeatedly. A window flies open. The dusty telly in the corner switches on and the books lying around on the ground next to her bag flip open rapidly.

Merlin's eyes meet her own and they share a smile. She's elated and her fingertips are still sparking with magic. She leans over the book, hugging him. Without warning, she kisses him firmly on the lips. And Morgana le Fay, sorceress and High Priestess of the Old Religion is back. Merlin wouldn't have it any other way.

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><p>They spend the rest of the day walking in the park, hand in hand. His magic jolts her skin and her magic retaliates playfully. She can't help but use magic for simple little things the remainder of the daylight hours. She drops a tissue and makes it levitate towards her. She feels like she's discovered her magic all over again for the first time, except she's not afraid this time around of being burned at the stake or beheaded in the courtyard.<p>

"You're going to get caught," he nudges her teasingly.

"Let them catch me," she's defiant. All traces of her shyness had vanished. Perhaps her magic is what had made her so bold before.

He laughs and pulls her towards a bench. She sits next to him, crossing her legs. Her head rests on his shoulder and they watch people walk by. Everything's so different now than it was in Camelot. She tries to reconcile the two and has a difficult time. She can't imagine what it must've been like for Merlin, living through the last ten centuries.

"So, this is studying?" an annoyed voice speaks. Leave it to his sister to lie about her workload

Morgana looks up to see her brother, Arthur. He's blond and has clear blue eyes, just as Merlin remembers. Arthur looks over at his sister's companion and his eyes widen.

"Merlin?" he says incredulously. Even his voice is the same. He doesn't say "Merlin", it's more like "_MER-_lin".

"Arthur," Merlin and Morgana stand up. He has an urge to bow but he fights it.

"You're here. Both of you are here," the once and future king whispers as if in a trance.

"Of course we're here, you dollop head," Merlin smirks.

"You knew?" Morgana has an urge to punch him, "you knew my nightmares were real and about Camelot and you didn't tell me?"

She hits him. He recoils, realising she's every bit the spitfire she had been despite her apparent shyness in this new life. That shyness is now gone.

"I didn't want to burden you," the teenager sounds wiser than his fifteen years, because really, he's been around as long as Merlin.

"Why're you here?" Morgana asks suddenly. Arthur and Vivien live on the other end of town.

"Something told me I should be here," he shrugs.

Morgana glares at him, before smirking, "So I take your Gwen is in fact Queen Guinevere."

The teenager blushes and shakes his head, "She doesn't remember."

Morgana frowns. She wishes her old friend remembers their pasts. The she remembers her assassination attempts on her 'old friend'. She changes her mind. It's best that Gwen doesn't know.

"What about Lancelot, and Gwaine, and..." she trails off. There could be an infinite list of people from Camelot who were in the very vicinity.

Merlin shakes his head, eyes glazing over.

"Lancelot's in the lake. A few lifetimes ago, I realised I'd seen most everyone," he sends a glance to Morgana, "except Lancelot and...Freya."

The witch holds her breath. She remembers Merlin speaking of the beautiful girl Arthur killed. To his credit, the former king looks sheepish and apologetic. She wonders if Merlin told Arthur he was the one who freed Freya all those years ago.

"So I went to Avalon. There she was, greeting me as if nothing's changed. I asked why she didn't come back, and she said she was at peace. Then Lancelot's face appeared, and he thanked me again," he bit his lip. His first love and his first friend who knew about his magic were together for eternity in Avalon.

Morgana wraps an arm around his waist in comfort.

"Oh, you two are disgusting," Arthur scowls, just as he used to. He breaks the moment of sadness and reflection. He can't take the sight of a brooding Merlin. He's supposed to be goofy and awkward and never sad.

"Thought you'd be used to it by now," Morgana challenges.

"Well, going a thousand years without a sister does that to a man," he shrugs and sees his sister's face drop at more mentions of the lives she could have had.

"We're together now. That's all that matters," she tries to say brightly.

"I'd better get going," Arthur says, eyes trained on his old manservant, "I won't tell mum about your 'studying'," he glances at Morgana.

"Thanks," she offers a light smile and hugs her brother, mumbling an apology for punching him.

Arthur walks away and Merlin grasps Morgana's hand. She doesn't even notice that she's shaking because an intense headache overcomes her, all her memories of her life in Camelot hitting her at once. She sees her mother screaming, the man she called 'papa' giving a little Morgana a hug before disappearing into the night.

She feels faint and Merlin immediately holds onto her, steadying her in his grip.

* * *

><p>"I don't think Uther's my real father. Or, was," Morgana breathes.<p>

Her headache is gone, but she feels incredibly sad. They're in a pub and a pint of beer is in front of her. She stares at it, taking some comfort in the fact that she can make it change colours at whim.

They had sat on the bench in the park until she felt a little better. Merlin bought her a water bottle and recited a spell to take care of her headache. He's had years of solitude to practise, so it's no wonder he no longer needs the books.

"Why do you say that?" Merlin asks, thumb running over her knuckles like the night before.

She shakes her head, "I saw my mum and Gorlois."

The visions rarely came to her during the day. Only when she sleeps and her guards are down. Except now that her magic is awake, the powers that be seem keen on making her remember everything all at once.

She bites her lip in contemplation, "Maybe she lied to Uther so he'd take care of me in case anything happened to them."

"You just don't want to be Arthur's sister," Merlin tries to joke. It falls flat.

"It's not that. I wish it were that simple," she closes her eyes.

She sees a man in fancy robes, King of Tintagel. He has green eyes and dark hair. He's tan and her mother, Vivien, has similar dark hair, except she has porcelain skin and blue eyes. She looks a lot like Nimueh, now that she takes note.

Her eyes open suddenly and widen. Her mouth is agape and Merlin stares at her in worry, afraid she's seen something terrible.

"Nimueh is my mother's sister," she chokes out.

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><p><strong> In some of the Arthurian legends, Morgana's the daughter of Igraine and Gorlois, and Uther marries Igraine later on. In <em>Merlin<em>, Vivien is her mother (and Igraine is Arthur's mother) while in the present, Vivien is mother to both Morgana and Arthur, or so Morgana thinks. Also, in some legends, Vivien is sometimes called Nive or Nimue. I thought it was interesting, so I've made them sisters.  
><strong>

**Please review and let me know what you think! It keeps me writing.  
><strong>


	4. Sins of the Father and Mother

**Thank you so much for your reviews! It really makes my day when I read feedback. I'd also like to thank those of you who've added this story to your alerts.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Sins of the Father (and Mother)<strong>

Merlin stares at her from across the table. The beer is no longer changing colours from her magic. She repeats herself.

"I think Nimueh is my mother's sister," she sounds frightened and he can see it on her face.

He stands abruptly, pulling crumpled bills from his pocket. He sets them on the table and takes her by the arm. They make their way to the entrance of the pub.

"See you, Merlin," the bartender. Morgana turns around to see the man. It's Gwaine. Merlin waves in goodbye and he and Morgana are outside in an abandoned alley.

"Gwaine?" she asks, brow raised. Merlin nods. It's fitting that he be working in a pub.

Merlin's eyes flash. She knows it's the transportation spell and she wraps her arms around Merlin.

They land not in his flat, but hers. Her mind is buzzing as memories of Camelot and her life here merge together as one.

"Focus, Morgana," Merlin's voice is quiet and reassuring. She tears through her drawings and paintings.

There's one of Avalon, of Uther, of Nimueh. She has a drawing, a rough sketch, really, of Gorlois and Vivien. She looks so much like the both of them, she can't help but convince herself that she is not a Pendragon. There's a portrait of Igraine, so blonde unlike her sister Vivien. In fact, she looks to be unrelated to Vivien and Aggravaine at all. She scowls at the thought of her uncle. All of these drawings are of her old life make her head spin.

She opens a drawer at her desk. A photo album. She doesn't know why it's here and not at Vivien's, but she can't seem to care. She flips it open and there they are.

A beaming Gorlois holding a tiny Morgana. Vivien smiling serenely in the picture. She flips to the next page. It's Uther and Igraine, arms wrapped around each other at what appears to be their wedding. A young Morgana, no older than four or five, is in the background on someone's lap. At first glance it looks like her mother. She always thought it was. Upon closer inspection she realises it's Nimeuh.

Merlin peers over her shoulder, brow furrowed. Why is Nimueh next to Gorlois, holding Morgana?

She feels like she can't breathe and she drops the photo album. Her head hurts and she closes her eyes. The past and present all collide and suddenly it's nearly clear. It's clear and disgusting and she feels sick that she's part of this family. Her eyes snap open and she looks at Merlin, hurt.

Not only has she been lied to about her parentage all those years ago, she's been lied to up to this very day.

"What is it?" he asks gently.

"Gorlois is my father. Always has been," she replies. This has to be true. That's the good part. She likes him since he was always kind to her and doted on her, "my mother had an affair with Uther after Igraine died."

She stops talking for a moment.

"And before the two were even married. It's so terrible."

Merlin leads her to the couch and they sit down. She curls into a ball and Merlin wraps his arms around her in comfort.

"Vivien and Uther are Morgause's parents. She must be out there somewhere," she theorises, and doesn't have the energy or the tears left to cry.

"What about Nimueh?" Merlin prods as gently as he can.

"That's where I'm still confused. She, Igriane, and Vivien are sisters. Gorlois married Vivien, and Uther married Igraine. I don't know where that leaves Nimueh."

She closes her eyes again, trying to remember, to think. The details are still fuzzy and she still isn't quite sure of Morgause and if she is in fact Uther and Vivien's child.

She sees them all when they were very young. Uther and Nimueh are arguing, like that's a surprise. A small Morgana is hiding behind the door, listening to them.

_"You will pay for what you've done, Uther Pendragon," she threatens him, blue eyes flashing._

_"This doesn't concern you," he tries to brush past her._

_"If it concerns my sisters, it concerns me. Not a year has passed since Igraine died and here you are," she steps closer to him, as if she's about to blast him away with her magic._

_"Leave me be," Uther bellows. Nimueh laughs._

_"The son you wanted so much killed your wife! My sister! And now you turn your attention to Vivien?" she sounds deadly. "No. I will make sure you never see Arthur ever again. You'll destroy Vivien's family. Think of Morgana!"_

_"You think I haven't thought of Morgana? For god's sake, she's my daughter!" he shouts. Nimueh freezes_.

_"No. That's a lie," she stutters._

_"Vivien herself told me," Uther is quiet now. Gorlois appears from the shadows, staring at the two._

Morgana opens her eyes and starts shaking. No. Her mother wouldn't do that to Gorlois. To Arthur. What ever happened to Nimeuh? Did she just disappear?

"Morgana?" Merlin holds her closer and she lets out a small sob. She needs to know what happened, so she closes here eyes again, focusing.

_Gorlois says nothing. He looks at Uther expressionless. Nimueh moves to his side and places a hand on his shoulder, entreating him to stay._

_"Please, for Morgana," she says._

_"You heard him. She's not my daughter," he gulps. He storms out of the room, Nimueh staring after him._

_"Uther Pendragon, destroyer of families for a thousand years," Nimueh glares._

_"What are you talking about?"_ _he doesn't remember the past. Nimueh does.  
><em>

_"Do you remember, Uther? When I was away for months?" she asks suddenly, her voice tinged with darkness._

_"It was a study abroad programme. That was years ago. Morgana wasn't even born yet, and you hadn't even introduced me to Igraine."_

_She nods curtly, "It wasn't study abroad. I was with child. Her name is Morgause. She's about Morgana's age."_

_Uther's eyes widen and he lets out a "No."_

_With that revelation, Nimueh leaves in the path Gorlois took. She'd never betray him like her sister did._

_"Gorlois," she stops him in the hallway. He looks at her._

_"Is Morgana my child?" he asks painfully._

_"She looks just like you," Nimueh provides. She's a bit jealous, actually. Morgana was the spitting image of her father, yet Morgause looks nothing like him. She doesn't bear resemblance to Morgana at all. She's blonde and favours Uther's colouring, making Gorlois suspicious of both sisters of Avalon.  
><em>

Morgana can't handle it anymore. She doesn't want to know anything further. She knows her family is messed up and terrible and Uther Pendragon was as disgusting in this life as he was in Camelot. She doesn't want to consider the thought that Gorlois could have betrayed Vivien as she betrayed him. She bites her lip and looks up at Merlin, who looks at her with worry.

"Morgause is Uther and Nimueh's daughter," she furrows her brow, trying to figure it all out. She needs to talk to her mother to get the facts straight. She can't remember anything else because she recalls Gorlois seeing her lurking in the hall and sending her to her room. "Arthur is Uther and Igraine's son, but Vivien, er, mum, is taking care of him. I don't even want to know what happened to Uther."

"What about Gorlois?" Merlin asks, hand massaging her shoulder because she tensed up.

"I want to find him. I need to talk to my mother. I'm not a Pendragon. I can feel it," she says finally.

She's emotionally and magically exhausted and spent. She can barely move. She doesn't even want to since Merlin's arms are a comfortable place to be.

"So, Gwaine's a bartender?" Morgana asks lightly, changing the topic.

"Manager, actually. I go in whenever they're short of staff," Merlin chuckles.

She lifts her head off of his chest to look at him with a smirk, "I bet they tip you well."

"Of course. Especially if it's a group of girls," he tries to sound haughty but it just doesn't suit him.

"It must be your cheekbones. Or your ears. Lips, maybe? No, it's your eyes. They're too blue," Morgana sits up to face him now. Her fingers brush his cheeks, his ears, and trace over his lips. His mouth parts to say something when she takes the opportunity to kiss him.

They're transported back in time, to the fevered kisses they stole whenever they could. They can feel their magic spike and flicker as her hands slide underneath his shirt and he leans over her to make her lie back on the couch.

They're interrupted with a knock on the door. Morgana lets out a disgruntled groan and Merlin eases himself off of her.

"I think someone has a death wish," she jokes. It's probably her elderly neighbour Mrs Ryan asking if she could help her with that darn fangled computer again. She swings the door open to see her mother staring back at her.

"Mum?" she asks.

"Morgana," Vivien greets cheerfully, as if nothing's wrong, "I wanted to see you. I hope you're not too busy studying."

She waltzes inside as if the flat is hers and she looks confused as she sees the mess of drawings and old photo albums. Her eyes scan the room before they land on Merlin. She lets out a little gasp. It's Emrys. In her daughter's flat.

"I didn't know you had company," she says flatly.

"_Merlin_ was just helping me _jog my memory_," she emphasises the last three words, a smirk gracing her lips. It's at that moment when Vivien Tintagel thinks her daughter looks much more like Nimueh than anyone else.

Vivien doesn't know what to say.

"Just one question, mum. That is, if you are my mother. Is Gorlois my father?" her eyes are wide and Vivien looks away.

"Yes," she admits.

"Why did you lie to me? Tell me Uther's my dad? Arthur knows nothing of his parents, does he? That you're his aunt and we're just cousins?" Morgana begins the inquisition and Vivien looks uncomfortable. Good, she deserves it, the hell she had to go through as a child feeling abandoned.

"I didn't want Arthur to feel any different from you. You're both like children to me," she says earnestly.

"I can accept that. However, I can't accept having a lying, cheating mother," Morgana bites her lip. Nimueh's face flashes before her eyes the second she says "mother". Dear heavens, no.

"No," Morgana shakes her head, stepping back. Merlin stands behind her, steadying her with a comforting hand on his shoulder. Nimueh is not her mother. She can't bear with that.

"Nimueh helped me get pregnant. We didn't know at the time she too was with child," Vivien says.

"Camelot," Morgana blurts out, "what about in Camelot?"

Vivien looks weary and tired.

"You've always been mine and Gorlois's daughter. Arthur was Igraine and Uther's, like now."

"And Morgause?" she asks about her sister, looking down.

"She's Nimueh's daughter," Vivien answers.

"And?"

"Gorlois," she provides.

Morgana's head snaps up.

"What?"

All this time, she's been thinking that Morgause is Uther's daughter. Then again, she thought Uther was her father, too.

"Nimueh was always the most powerful. The only reason you even have such powerful magic is because her gifts transferred to you since she helped me when I was pregnant," Vivien shrugs, looking far away.

"She helped Igraine, too, didn't she? Why isn't Arthur magic?" Morgana challenges. Her world's been turned upside down and the only solace she can find is in Merlin's hand on her shoulder.

"He's not exactly a daughter of Avalon, now is he?" Vivien asks. Before Morgana can say anything more, her mother looks at her with a glare.

"I took care of you. Nimueh and Gorlois would've just taken you from me," she shivers at the thought. Yes, that's what they were planning on doing. Taking Morgana to raise her with Morgause, leaving Vivien free to marry Uther and play mother to Arthur. Her heart still stops at the thought that she could've lost her child.

"So they're together," Morgana doesn't ask. She knows it must be true.

"I'm sorry, this is too much," Vivien goes next to the door, "I hope you can find some way to forgive me one day."

She leaves and Morgana stands motionless. Merlin's arms wrap around her before she can fall to the ground.

Merlin and Morgana sink onto the fuzzy carpet. Merlin cradles her in his arms, sorry he even asked about her parentage. She figures this must be karmic payback for her treacherous past. She can't help but think that she deserves this and worse. She doesn't know if she should tell Arthur. If he'll ever know. Perhaps it was best being left in the dark.

"I was better off not knowing," she blinks away tears.

He doesn't say anything and just holds her.

"What about your parents?" she asks, wanting to forget that she even has a family. Finding Morgause, Gorlois and Nimueh is far from her mind.

"Same as ever," Merlin shrugs. In each life Hunith and Balinor had been together, Balinor meeting an untimely death each time. Except now. He's still alive right now, and for that he's thankful.

"Hunith was so kind," she smiles lightly, remembering the woman from Ealdor.

"As she is now," Merlin grins, glad to distract Morgana from her depressing thoughts.

"And the dragons? Are there dragons?" she asks suddenly.

"Still dragons. They're in hiding," he answers. He thinks of Aithusa and Kilgarrah, still taking refuge in a land far away.

She sits up, eyes shining, "We should go to Camelot. Find the dragons. It'll be like we never left. Before everything went to hell, before I destroyed everything."

She looks nearly desperate and he can't help but refuse her when she looks so broken and hopeful at the same time.

"We both destroyed everything," he points out and she shakes her head with a small smile.

"So?" she bites her lip. It's Saturday afternoon. A night and day in Camelot is all she wants. She wants to feel like herself again, away from the mess that has become her life.

"Pack your bags, my lady," Merlin offers, relishing the bright grin that flashes across her face.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope it's an enjoyable read. Next chapter has a journey to the remains of Camelot. Please review, it's what keeps me writing!<strong>


	5. All This and Heaven Too

**Thank you so much for your reviews! It really makes my day when I read feedback. I'd also like to thank those of you who've added this story to your alerts.**

**This is a song chapter, I hope it's enjoyable. (Once again, Florence and the Machine).  
><strong>

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><p><strong>All This and Heaven Too<strong>

_And the heart is hard to translate, _  
><em> It has a language of it's own, <em>  
><em> It talks and tongues and quiet sighs and prayers and proclamations, <em>  
><em> In the grand days of great men and the smallest of gestures, <em>  
><em> In short shallow gasps.<em>

A land of myth and a time of magic no longer exists. At least, not to the ordinary man. With just a bag of a change of clothes, Morgana and Merlin walk through the woods. She's glad she's wearing her old jeans and a too-large sweater. She remembers her days in this very forest and decides jeans trump the silken dresses any day.

Merlin transported them from her flat to all-too familiar forest, and now they hold hands as they climb up the hill. Her mind buzzes with excitement, waiting to see Camelot once more. Her home, her heart. It's fitting that Merlin is the man by her side, almost as if nothing has changed. If she really tries, she can see the knights on their horses, galloping in the distance. She can hear the music in the banquet hall. She can smell the candles in her room.

But everything has changed because she no longer seeks vengeance. No longer will she leave death and destruction in her wake. No, the white magic in her has triumphed over the dark arts, and for that she has Merlin to thank.

She's broken out of her thoughts when she trips on a stone, his arms steadying her.

"Careful," he tries not to laugh.

"Couldn't you have taken us straight to the castle?" she huffs. She would have done it herself, if her magic were strong enough. It isn't, and she hopes being so close to her roots will strengthen her powers.

"And miss this," he gestures to the scenery, and she agrees that it's beautiful.

Besides, no one knows where Camelot is. Sure, historians have their theories, but Merlin made it impossible to locate. Once Arthur had died thousands of years ago and most of the inhabitants had left, Merlin cast a spell, concealing Camelot from sight, never to be found again. No one could find it unless they once lived there and seek it out deliberately. As of now, the only people who can step foot in Camelot are Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur. She hopes Vivien and Nimueh can't find their way back. And she knows Gwen and Gwaine remember nothing of their pasts. She feels special, being part of the select few who remember.

They reach a clearing and she forgets how to breathe for a moment.

Her Camelot. The once majestic castle is abandoned, crumbling, and still so beautiful.

Merlin takes her hand and she looks up at him in awe. They made it.

_But with all my education,_  
><em>I can't seem to commend it,<em>  
><em>And the words are all escaping me,<em>  
><em>And coming back all damaged,<em>  
><em>And I would put them back in poetry,<em>  
><em>If I only knew how<em>

Walking through the lower town is too surreal. The cottages are dilapidated from centuries of disuse and neglect. Bricks falling apart, ceilings missing. Yet she can still see the quaint buildings that once existed and gave Camelot its charm. Merlin's eyes water and she squeezes his hand.

The closer they walk to the castle, the more her heart pounds in her chest. Her mouth is dry and she doesn't even know what to say. Words can't describe the feeling of being home again. She looks up at the window. _Her_ window. The day Merlin came to town was the day she saw him in the crowd, watching the execution of Mary Collins's son with the same disgust she felt.

He must have remembered too, because he smiles faintly at a memory.

They reach the gates and her heart stops. The wrought iron is rusted and Merlin lets go of her hand. She misses the contact dearly. She watches as he tries to push the gate open, to no avail.

_**"Tóspringe**_," he holds out his hand and blasts the gate aside.

His hand holds hers once more and they reach the doors of the castle. Her other hand itches. Together, they push it open. It doesn't give until her eyes flash gold without her trying, and it opens by its own accord.

The stone walls, the tapestries, the marble columns and statues are all there to be accounted for. There are cobwebs everywhere, making it difficult to walk through.

She looks up at the cloisters where she and Merlin once dragged a sleeping Uther. Her shoulder aches in ghostly pain at the memory of carrying the sleeping man's weight.

Every corner, there's a story to be told. If she was speechless before, there certainly is nothing to say now.

_And I would give all this and heaven too,_  
><em>I would give it all if only for a moment,<em>  
><em>That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see,<em>  
><em>'Cause I've been scrawling it forever,<em>  
><em>But it never makes sense to me at all.<em>

As a girl, she found the castle walls confining. She felt that she was meant for more. Now she knows she was meant for infamy and dark magics. She runs her hand over the cold stones. Merlin sets their bags on the ground and walks in circles, eyes storming through every emotion imaginable.

The throne room is their first stop. Morgana sees the two thrones, once occupied by Arthur and Guinevere. She remembers the attacks she started in an attempt to sit on that very throne. She doesn't like this room. Merlin wraps an arm around her waist and they leave the cobwebbed, dusty thrones to themselves.

Their feet lead them to the banquet hall and the tables are still there with their plush chairs. She looks around and can see herself walk past in that daring magenta dress, smirking as she sees Merlin ogle at her from the corner of her eye. She feels weak and overwhelmed at the same time. She clutches onto a mahogany table, covered in thick layers of dust.

Merlin starts humming, filling the silent and empty hall with music. Morgana turns to face. He's holding his hand out.

"Care to dance, my lady?" he asks with a grin.

It was something they could never do in Camelot. Dance together. She agrees and finds herself in his arms, swaying to the tune he hummed. He spins her around, and she laughs. If only Uther's banquets and feasts actually went like this. She spins back into his arms, pressing herself close to him.

His hands slide from her back to her waist and he dips her. Her hair falls out of its pontyail, covering her shoulders. He lifts her back up and their foreheads touch.

_And it talks to me in tiptoes,_  
><em>And sings to me inside,<em>  
><em>It cries out in the darkest night,<em>  
><em>And breaks in morning light.<em>

She laughs at the thought of Uther's heart attack if he ever saw his beloved ward in the arms of a manservant. Merlin smiles broadly, and she pulls him closer.

They kiss and their magic flickers. The banquet hall suddenly transforms. The melted candles of the chandelier light up once more. The cobwebs disappear, the dust blows away. The tables are shined and the floor sparkles. It looks like the large room has always been in use and tended to. The setting sun filters through the large windows with the colourful tiles. Light dances all around them, blues, golds and reds hitting the wall.

Their magic flares and they have to pull away, breathless.

"Did we just do that?" she asks.

Their shadows flicker on the walls, dancing in the candle light. Merlin nods.

"Seems so," he's happy, and she's glad.

She bites her lip and smirks, "Then I suppose it's up to us to clean up the rest of the castle."

"As you wish, my lady," he kisses her again.

_But with all my education,_  
><em>I can't seem to commend it,<em>  
><em>And the words are all escaping,<em>  
><em>And coming back all damaged,<em>  
><em>And I would put them back in poetry,<em>  
><em>If I only knew how,<em>  
><em>I can't seem to understand it<em>

They climb the crumbling stairs carefully, as not to fall. An image flashes before her eyes as she sees herself in a red cloak fall down those very stairs. Merlin stands behind her, making sure she doesn't trip. Once upstairs, the candles come to life though their eyes don't flash. The castle senses the presence of Emrys and Morgana le Fay. They must show their respect.

They stand in front of a heavy door. Morgana's heart stops. She wants to say something but all she can do is let out a gasp. The door opens on its own.

Inside is her dresser, her vanity, her wardrobe (door ajar-she can see her now dusty dresses), her table, her four poster bed with the silk sheets and luxurious pillows. Everything was all there for her. She turns to Merlin, green eyes wide in surprise.

"No one touched this room after you left," his voice is thick. He's polite about it. He doesn't say "after you betrayed us all". For that, she's grateful. Her eyes fall onto the table. Wilted purple flowers, now long dead, still sit in a vase. She looks at Merlin, her heart aching.

"The flowers are still here," she wipes her face. She's not about to cry over flowers. But they're the flowers Merlin gave her, so they're immediately more important than any other flowers. Ever.

"Always will be," he moves towards the table. His eyes flash gold and the flowers are once again bright and alive.

The dust falls away from her dresses and furniture. Everything is sparkling and clean. He steps behind Morgana, wrapping his arms around her waist. She turns around, hugging him close.

"There's something I never got to tell you, before, I mean," she whispers, "I love you."

He pulls away and for a minute she's afraid he's about to leave her. Instead, his mouth splits into a wide, adorable grin.

"I love you, too," he breathes, "been waiting a thousand or so years to tell you."

_And I would give all this and heaven too,_  
><em>I would give it all if only for a moment,<em>  
><em>That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see,<em>  
><em>'Cause I've been scrawling it forever,<em>  
><em>But it never makes sense to me at all.<em>

She kisses him suddenly. Those flutters in her heart, the clenching of her stomach, the ache and loneliness she feels whenever he's not by her side. It's love. It's always been love. She had just never realised, and she was too much of a coward to acknowledge her feelings.

All the times she'd tell herself this little affair with the king's adviser was just a game, a power play. That that pain she felt every time he left her bed, it was just her mind playing tricks on her. That she needed to be rational.

She'd been wrong. So incredibly wrong. She regrets not telling him sooner, but now she's righting those wrongs. She's going to tell him how much she loves him everyday for the rest of their lives.

_And I would give all this and heaven too,_  
><em>I would give it all if only for a moment,<em>  
><em>That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see,<em>  
><em>'Cause I've been scrawling it forever,<em>  
><em>But it never makes sense to me at all.<em>

His hands grip her hips roughly, fingers digging into the sliver of skin between her jeans and sweater. Her hands tear at his jacket, deeming it unnecessary. It falls to the ground and he pushes her against the screen (the very screen he and a young innocent Mordred had once hid behind). His mind flashed back to her pale skin and long curls as she addressed him while she undressed, thinking he was Gwen.

He lets out a groan as her tongue battles with his. She always has to win, always. Her fingers yank away his blue scarf. After all this time, he still sticks to red shirts and blue scarves, or blue shirts and red scarves. The thought is comforting.

If it weren't for the fact they were wearing thoroughly modern clothes, they could imagine they were back under Uther's reign, sneaking kisses in the middle of the night. But they never did, then. They're finally getting the chance now.

She breaks away, breathless. His eyes are wide, as are hers. They haven't been together in centuries. She blushes. She's a virgin in this life and she remembers he's lived countless lives.

"Merlin, was there ever anyone else?" she looks down in embarrassment.

"What?" he sounds confused. Realisation dawns on him and his expression softens.

"It was only ever you, Morgana. I'd spend my entirety of my lives trying to find you," he admits.

She looks up shyly, a smile on her face.

"You waited all this time?" she asks.

"Of course, my lady," he nods and smiles.

Her heart feels light and she launches herself at him once more, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw, and finally his lips. Her fingers tickle his collarbone as she tries to rid him of his red shirt. She marvels at his pale chest and his collar bones that just out, as they always have. She brushes her hands over his chest, licking her lips.

_No, words are a language,_  
><em>It doesn't deserve such treatment,<em>  
><em>And all my stumbling phrases,<em>  
><em>Never amounted to anything worth this feeling,<em>  
><em>All this heaven,<em>  
><em>Never could describe such a feeling as I'm having,<em>  
><em>Words were never so useful,<em>  
><em>So I was screaming out a language that I never knew existed before.<em>

They fall onto her bed. It squeaks in protest, shocked to have weight on it after centuries of loneliness. Their clothing amasses onto a pile on the floor and they let out screams and buried desires they've kept down for years. It's been too long. She finally realises what's been missing in her life (this life, the past twenty years). Merlin. Merlin and his love. He makes her bolder, more confident, and most importantly, he makes her love and he loves her, just as she is. He's always loved her, whether she was the king's word or a vengeful sorceress. And he still loves her when she's just a regular, magical girl with no title to her name. What they feel for one another surpass regular love, transcending everything. No wonder she had such a hard time identifying her feelings before.

Their magic ignites inside of them. Every inch of their skin is tingling with electricity and power. She shivers as his fingertips graze her skin, shocking her gently. The fire from the candles grows and grows, until they're illuminated by the orange and red glow.

His lips on hers, her hands around his neck, his hands tangled in her hair. Magic seeps from every pore, binding them together. She feels her magic grow and strengthen. She doesn't remember this happening any other time they made love.

There lies the difference. They're making love now. It's not just sex or a way to pass the time. Magic brings them together, uniting them for the rest of eternity because they're honest and loving, now.

Now she feels complete.

For the first time in a long time, they're home.

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><p><strong>So, Camelot. How'd you guys like it? Please review!<strong>


	6. Something Out There

**Thank you so much for your reviews! It really makes my day when I read feedback. I'd also like to thank those of you who've added this story to your alerts.**

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><p><strong>Something<strong> **Out There**

Her sleep isn't plagued by visions of the past of future. Instead, she has no dreams and wakes up feeling the most relaxed and calm she's ever felt. Sunlight filters through the window, and she hesitantly opens her eyes.

At first, it takes her a moment to recognise her surroundings. The bed is far too comfortable and then her eyes widen. She's in her chambers. She looks next to her. Merlin is still fast asleep, face down on the pillow, snoring lightly. She starts to panic. Gwen would be by soon to wake her and bring her breakfast. She bites her lip. Uther would have both their heads.

She doesn't notice the modern clothing on the floor. Instead she frets, thinking of all the terrible ways they could be executed. There's beheading, burning at the stake, the list goes on. She wraps the bed sheet around her, sitting up.

"Merlin," she whispers, nudging him.

"Hmm," he groans, rolling over onto his back. His eyes open and he grins at her, "Morning, my lady."

"Merlin, hurry. You have to get back to Gaius, before Gwen comes..." she trails off when she notices Merlin looking at her strangely, still smiling. Her brow furrows. She lets out a sigh of relief. It's 2012. She's not Uther's ward and Merlin isn't Gaius's apprentice.

Merlin sits up and kisses her cheek.

"You looked so worried," he grins.

She shakes her head, feeling foolish, "I thought...well, you know what I thought."

"I can assure you it's happened to me more than a few times," he says lightly.

"How do you keep everything straight in your head?" she bites her lip.

His eyes cloud over, "You just block it out. Like file cabinets in your mind. Each file is a life. You lock them away. But sometimes, the memories come flooding back. And it hurts. Countless lives and thousands of years, locked away. And when they let loose, it's like a pounding that never goes away."

He looks at her and shrugs. She wraps her arms around him, pressing her forehead to his. They close their eyes and she can probe his mind. She can see his memories. There he is wearing Renaissance clothing. There he is on a gondola in Venice. There he is in France in the 1800s. There he is in New York, in what appears to be the 1960s. There he is with Arthur, both of them wearing army uniforms during World War II. There he is again in the 1920s, wearing a suit, hands in pockets, slouching. She kisses him gently, glad that he's willing to share his memories. She frowns, though, when she realises that he looked to be quite young in the 1920s, 40s, and 60s, respectively. She hopes this doesn't mean he died in his twenties for three or more lives.

"What happens when we die again?" she asks quietly, worried.

"What do you mean?" his arms are still around her and he's running his fingertips up and down her arms.

"How do we find each other again? What if I'm there, and you're not. Or you're there and I'm not?" green eyes stare into blue. She's surprised to hear him let out a chuckle.

"Even if it takes a thousand more years, I will find you again," he promises softly, kissing her.

"But what if I don't remember again?" she protests between kisses.

"You _will_ remember," he says it with such conviction she can't help but believe him.

"But-"

She's cut off with another kiss. She can't say that she minds very much.

Merlin pulls her on top of him, deepening the kiss. She giggles and pulls away reluctantly.

"We should get going," she doesn't want to leave. Camelot is her home and always will be.

He sighs and nods. She rolls off of him and stands up. As she's about to reach for her jeans and sweater on the floor, she spots her old wardrobe. The door is ajar and she can't help herself. She purses her lips before striding over.

There it is. The blue and purple gown with the billowing sleeves. She takes it out gently, holding it in front of her. The silk, the satin, the chiffon. It's all too comforting. It smells old and flowery at the same time.

Merlin watches her from the bed, an absent-minded smile flickering across his face. He looks to be lost in thought. Lost in his memories of Camelot. Of where he became the greatest sorcerer in all of history. He's stuff of legend, now, but he's still just a young man.

She slips behind the screen and pulls the dress on over her head. It fits her like a glove and she feels like a princess. No. She feels like the Lady Morgana. She pokes her head out to see Merlin now wearing underpants and his trousers. He attempts to make the bed without magic. She steps out fully from behind the screen. Merlin turns around. His eyes widen and he drops the blanket he was holding.

"My Lady," he chokes out, eyes raking in her appearance. This was all too surreal. He's surprised the clothes haven't fallen apart completely. Perhaps his spell was too good at preserving everything while keeping Camelot hidden.

"Merlin, have you brought my sleeping draught?" she smirks teasingly.

"Yes, my lady," he stutters.

"Oh, Merlin, no more of this 'my lady' business," she saunters over to him, trying her best not to giggle.

"Morgana," he breathes as her lips crash onto his.

* * *

><p>Her dress is discarded once more, and the bed is left unmade.<p>

Morgana appears to be lost in thought for a moment as they gather their clothing from the floor.

"How come all the legends are so, well, disturbing, and wrong?" she bites her lip. Seriously, some of the things she's read have made her stomach churn. Being Mordred's mother (with _Arthur_ as his father, of all people), Nimueh being the one to trap Merlin and seduce him, Merlin being an old man, Gwen and Lancelot (Lancelot, who was dead before Gwen was ever Queen) having an affair and destroying Arthur. It's all too terrifying to even think about it.

"I had to leave a false trail. Everyone was interested in Camelot's golden age, the reign of King Arthur. So I made it into a myth. Changed facts, changed names here and there. I made it a legend and a fanciful story. I had to distance ourselves from it. Some of the things I did..." he trails off, remembering sadistic choice after sadistic choice he was forced to make. Poisoning Morgana was just one of the many. Magically taking Excalibur from the stone was another. In legends Arthur did it all by himself. In reality, Merlin never let anyone know it was his magic that released the sword.

Morgana nods. It's understandable. She wants to distance herself from her past misdeeds, too.

"I'm sorry if the stories got out of hand," he apologises. She smiles and nods.

Once dressed, they stand at the door. Morgana lets her eyes sweep over her chambers one last time, tears pricking her eyes. She wishes she had a time machine, or enough power to perform a time spell. But that would just throw everything into chaos, and having Merlin by her side would not be a certainty in the past. She can live with her present and future, so long as she has Merlin and her memories.

Merlin's arm wraps around her shoulders and he too looks as if he's about to cry.

* * *

><p>They walk down the stairs, once again, careful. They bypass the banquet hall and the throne room, instead finding the stairs leading to the underground cave. Morgana remembers their bags in the banquet hall and runs to get them. Her trainers slap against the expensive tiles, and she giggles at the thought of Uther punishing her for wearing trousers and boys' shoes, all while running in the hall. She retrieves the bags and sends a sweeping glance at the banquet hall. She tries not to see herself in Merlin's arms after he poisoned her, but it's difficult. It's the very place she'd felt most betrayed. Before that, it was the very place she would make the male members of the court admire her, all while she ignored them. Instead she'd taunt her foster brother, all the while keeping her eyes on his manservant. She smiles again and goes back to Merlin.<p>

"And Kilgarrah will be there?" Morgana asks as they climb down the stairs.

Merlin nods, hopeful. A glowing ball of light guides them, and as they walk the torches on the wall spring to life. Morgana smiles. Having magic is such an integral part of her that she doesn't know how she went without for so long.

They reach their destination and Merlin lets out the dragon's call. His voice is deeper and scratchier than she's ever head, and he sounds angry. Like he did in battle.

Moments later, a great flapping noise is heard. It's Kilgarrah and Aithusa, together.

"So we meet once more, young warlock. I see you've brought the witch-er, the Lady Morgana, with you," Kilgarrah sounds the same, eyes peering at the two most powerful sorcerers of their time.

"Hello, old friend," Merlin smiles.

Morgana's frightened. Kilgarrah wanted her to remain in the dark about her magic. Aithusa smiles at her, and she smiles back hesitantly.

"Do not be afraid, my lady," Aithusa speaks quietly, more gently than Kilgarrah.

"I wanted to apologise. For everything," Morgana says finally.

"I too would like to apologise to you. I fear that my suggestions to Emrys made your heart darker than would have been," Kilgarrah admits.

Merlin looks away. All the pain that could have been avoided if only he wasn't a coward. If only he told her about his magic when she expressed her fears to him. She takes his hand, squeezing it.

"I should not have been so distrusting of you just because of who your father was," the Great Dragon continues.

"What's past will remain in the past," Morgana gulps. Isn't Gorlois her father? She's afraid to ask, now, the way his large eyes looked at her curiously. There's no possible way Vivien lied to her, right?

"It is good to see you. You're both destined to bring prosperity and good tidings," Kilgarrah says cryptically.

"To Camelot?" Merlin asks, staring at the dragon. Would it kill him to be clear for once?

"You shall see in time, young warlock, you shall see."

With that, the two dragons took off into the sky, leaving Merlin and Morgana in their wake.

* * *

><p>As they walk to lake, they try to decipher what the dragons meant.<p>

"Could one of us become Prime Minister?" Morgana asks jokingly.

"And bring world peace?" Merlin chuckles. It sounds so unlikely. Never before in his past lives has Kilgarrah mentioned another prophecy. Maybe he needed Morgana to make it happen.

They fall silent. There's a rustling noise.

"Do you hear that?" Merlin asks, stopping Morgana.

"Probably just a rabbit or deer," she shrugs. Deers. She turned Gwen into a deer once. She winces at the memory. Merlin nods and they continue walking.

The lake is as pristine as it ever was, undisturbed by outsiders.

"Mortals only see it before they die," Morgana whispers as she marvels at the beauty.

"We've already died, remember?" Merlin nudges her with a wry grin. She shakes her head and they step onto the shore, to the edge of the water.

The surface bubbles, and a face emerges. A girl with large brown eyes and wavy dark hair stares at them.

"Merlin!" she greets happily.

"Freya," he smiles and drops onto the sand to get as close as he could to her.

"How are you?" she asks, glancing over his shoulder to Morgana. She grins, "Hello, Lady Morgana."

"Hello," Morgana greets. She doesn't know what to say. Merlin must've mentioned her to Freya before. After all, he'd gone to see her in his past lives. She feels like she's intruding on what should be a private moment between Merlin and the first girl he ever loved, ever kissed. In fact, she's fairly certain had Freya not died, it would be two of them together right now, instead of her. She can't let herself think that though. Because first loves tend not to last, and because she loves Merlin and he loves her.

While she's lost in thought, another face bubbles up to the surface. Her breath catches in her throat as Merlin greets his old friend. Lancelot. The man she summoned from the dead to do her bidding.

"My Lady," Lancelot greets her and it sounds so wrong. Does he remember what she made him do?

"Lancelot. I'm so sorry," she starts, blurting out apologies.

He smiles, "It's all right. I couldn't ask for a better afterlife."

Lancelot sends a side-long glance at Freya and realisation dawns on her. Of course the most noble knight of Camelot would find happiness with the kind Lady of the Lake.

The afternoon passes by all too quickly. They bid adieu to the water spirits. Merlin grips her hand, and they're transported back into her flat.

She looks around her living room. So much smaller than her chambers, than Camelot. Her eyes stop on a blond teenager reclining on the couch. He sits up and Morgana narrows her eyes at him.

"How'd you get inside?" she asks.

"Spare key. Why'd you go to Camelot without me?" his blue eyes look angry as he glances between his sister and best friend. Morgana's not quite sure how Arthur could tell where they'd gone. Perhaps he could smell the candle wax, dust, and history surrounding them.

"I needed this, Arthur. I needed to reconcile everything," Morgana snaps. He had years with Merlin and getting used to this reincarnation business. She didn't. Now she does and she's going to do what she needs to do to ease her mind.

"You could've told me!" he glares at them. Merlin stays silent throughout the ordeal. It's not his place to interfere in a spat with siblings.

"Told you that we're going to see Lancelot?" she smirks when his expression falls. He looks guilty for his imprisonment of the Lancelot shade, "sometimes I wish Gwen ran away with him when she had the chance."

She blurts it out before she can stop herself. Her hand flies over her mouth and Arthur's hands ball into fists. Merlin steps between the two.

"Tea, anyone? Perhaps some cake? Or we could go to the pub?" he suggests, trying to ease the tension.

"Stop being so nice about everything, Merlin," Arthur snaps, glaring.

"Maybe you should stop being a clot pole," Merlin counters, standing between the bickering siblings.

"You'd be a clotpole too if your _best friend_ runs off with your sister to your only home," he crosses his arms grumpily. He's more grumpy about Lancelot, now. After all these years, he still wonders if Guinevere would have been happier with Lancelot than as his queen.

"Well, I don't have a sister," Merlin quips easily.

Arthur snorts, smiling lightly. Some things would never change. And he'll never fully get used to the idea of his sister and manservant/best friend being together. In fact, he's a bit jealous that they have each other and can remember the past when he can't tell Gwen anything.

Morgana offers an apologetic look to Arthur. The way he looks at her and Merlin makes her sad. Her teenage brother looks to have every bit of his thousand or so years of life experience at the moment. All of the difficult decisions he had to make as king are all in his eyes, etched in the premature lines around his mouth.

"We can't go to the pub. I'm not exactly an adult yet in this form," he pouts a bit.

"Cafe for tea and cake it is," Morgana decides, earning a smile from her brother. Foster brother?

Kilgarrah's words about Uther being her father still hang in the back of her mind. She needs to sort this out before she goes insane. But right now, her only concern is tea and cake.

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><p><strong>So, more Camelot and a thousand or so year old man stuck in a teenager's body. I feel like I'm making everyone ever so angsty, but then again, this is <em>Merlin<em>. Please review!  
><strong>


	7. A Long Time Ago, We Used to be Friends

**Thank you so much for your reviews/alerts/favorites! It really makes my day when I read feedback.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>A Long Time Ago, We Used to be Friends<strong>

She looks at her reflection in the mirror, frowning. It's Monday morning and she has to delve back into her mundane world as Morgana Tintagel (she has her mother's last name, much to her and Arthur's amusement), much to her dismay. After tea with Arthur and Merlin, her younger brother went home to study for a science test the next day. She and Merlin wandered back to his flat, where she spent the night. Needless to say, sleep was the last thing on their minds.

Instead she probed his mind on his past lives. He was telling a story about owing Casanova a chicken when she fell asleep, curled into a ball next to him. When she woke up, she found herself in his bed, his arm wrapped around her and a thick blanket covering them. It was quite a nice way to wake after only a few hours worth of sleep.

Unfortunately, she's back in her own room after Merlin transported them to her flat. She still can't muster the power necessary to transport on her own.

A pale, tired face stares back at her. There are dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hair is in a ponytail, because she can't be bothered to try and tame her curls this particular morning. She picks up a tube of lipstick. It's a dark red she never liked. She always thought it looked too harsh with her pale skin, making her look sickly. Now when she sees the dark lipstick, all she can see is her face when she was the ill-fated Queen of Camelot, ever so briefly. A shiver runs through her spine and she tries to push back the memories of the people she killed.

A loud clang breaks her out of her thoughts. She furrows her brows and exits her room, bare feet padding on the carpet. She fights a grin as she watches Merlin prepare breakfast. There's toast in the toaster and two plates are set on her tiny, cramped table.

"Don't burn that," she quips, walking into the kitchen.

"That's the thanks I get for making you breakfast? You Pendragons are so ungrateful. I cook, I clean-" he doesn't get to finish as Morgana presses a quick kiss to his lips as she takes the plate of bread from his hand. She doesn't remind him that she's not a Pendragon. She thinks, anyway.

"That works too," he shrugs with a small smile.

She opens her the door to her nearly empty fridge, biting her lips. There's a small tub of spreadable butter, half-empty jar of jam, and left-over Indian food from Wednesday night, the day before this whirlwind that is her life began.

Merlin lets out a laugh as he regards the pitiful state of her fridge.

"You lived on your own all those years, you know how to cook," Merlin snorts, grabbing the jam and setting on the table. They sit down and begin to pick at their breakfast.

Morgana shrugs, "Never really thought to try it. Mum, ehm, Vivien, made everything and after I moved out I just got takeout. I haven't even thought of trying."

Merlin nods absentmindedly.

"Do you want to see if the chicken curry is still good?" she asks with a small wrinkle of the nose.

"Don't eat meat," Merlin says.

Morgana looks at him with narrowed eyes, "Since when?"

"Since everyone I knew was dead and I only had the animals as friends and confidants," he says it so easily that she's taken aback. His eyes look darker as he remembers those lonely years, and Morgana's sorry she even asked.

* * *

><p>She taps her pen against her notebook, trying to focus. Why did she choose to be a history major? Let alone with a focus on the dark ages of Europe? Along with a course on ancient mythology and literature? Oh, yeah. Because she was there and it's been in her subconscious for the past twenty years, trying to break free.<p>

She wants to jump up and interrupt her teacher. "But the goddesses and priestesses and faeries are real!" She wants to shout like a petulant child, insisting that all the "imaginary" creatures are weird. Her classmates already think her odd and aloof (if not just a complete snob) already. She doesn't need to add fuel to the fire.

She should know. She was a High Priestess, after all.

But she stays quiet and listens to her professor drone on and on about the abdication of the last Roman Emperor and the building of churches on ancient sites. She bites her tongue at the passing mention of the Druids. Her mind begins to jumble and she decides to focus on the clock at the front of the room, just above the blackboard.

Ten minutes of class left. Eight minutes. Seven. Six. It feels like the New Years' countdown.

The second her professor says "that's all for today, see you next class", she bolts.

Her bag is left unzipped and she tries to shove her notebook in her bag while walking. She collides with a woman, causing her to drop her books, and begins to apologise immediately.

"I'm so sorry, I was in a hurry," she blabbers apologetically as she picks up the girl's books. Their hands touch as both reach for an old textbook. She feels a jolt of electricity.

Morgana looks up to see an older girl with wide brown eyes and a blonde fringe.

"Morgause," the tears well in her eyes without warning and she feels like she's about to collapse.

Morgause stares at her, unblinkingly.

"How do you know my name?" she asks, standing up. She peers at the younger girl, trying to place her in her memory.

Morgana stares at her, mouth moving with no sound coming out. Morgause doesn't remember. But she _has_ to remember! Morgana figures the rule was that if the person had magic in Camelot (the exception being Arthur, who was conceived by magic) was that they would remember. Obviously, this is not the case.

"Have we had classes together?" Morgause asks.

"No. We just knew each other a long time ago. Sorry for bumping into you," Morgana says sadly, walking away from her sister.

* * *

><p>Her flat's empty. She feels silly for expecting Merlin to be there. After all, he has a life besides her. She tosses her bag next to her desk and picks up the note on the desk. Merlin's handwriting. <em>Meet me at the pub. I need to tell you something.<em>

Morgana frowns at how cryptic his note is. She grabs her keys, wallet, and mobile from her bag and shoves them into the pockets of the coat she had yet to take off. She leaves her building, walking in the direction of the pub near the park.

She's surprised to see Merlin behind the counter, chatting with Gwaine. She grimaces when she remembers she made the man fight off her army with a wooden sword.

"Hi," she greets awkwardly.

Merlin smiles brightly at her and all her feelings of uneasiness seem to disappear. Gwaine nods with a little smile.

"Good to see Merlin's got a lady friend, finally," he shakes his long hair out of his face.

Morgana fights back a giggle as Merlin turned a bright red.

"So, mind if I take a break?" Merlin asks Gwaine.

Ah. So this is one of his many jobs. Bartender.

"Sure. Pretty much dead in here anyways," Gwaine answers, looking at the sparsely populated pub. It was still too early for dinner, let alone drinks after dinner.

Merlin steps from behind the corner and takes Morgana's hand, leading her to a corner table in the back.

"What's wrong?" he asks, seeing worry behind her eyes.

"I saw Morgause," she blurts, surprised he's able to read her so well. Morgause is only supposed to be a few months older than her, according to Vivien's story. So why did she look years older?

"You think your mother lied to you?" Merlin asks gently. He probed her mind, and she doesn't find it bothersome anymore.

She nods, biting her lip. Does she have to be lied to her entire life, no matter her life?

"What did you want to tell me?" she asks, wanting to forget about the lies her mother may have spewed.

"I saw Mordred. With Nimueh," Merlin says quietly.

Morgana's eyes widen. Her aunt Nimueh. So who was Mordred to her in this life?

"And?" she prods.

"I don't know if Mordred remembers. But Nimueh certainly does. She asked me where you are," Merlin closes his eyes and rubs his cheek. In Morgana's memories, she had threatened Uther Pendragon for ruining her family. Nothing new, there.

It's then that Morgana notices he looks just as, if not more, tired than she does. Bags under their eyes, pale skin even paler than usual. He looks so thin wearing a baggy shirt, it scares her. She tries to remember if he was always that frail, or if it's a result of his vegetarianism.

"She wants to find me?" she gulps. She remembers how Vivien said Nimueh wanted to take her away with Gorlois. Her heart constricts. For some reason, she wants the three magical children: Mordred, Morgause, and herself. But why? What does Nimueh want? She's a powerful High Priestess, she doesn't need children (or a sorceress with dormant power from years of misuse).

Merlin licks his lips nervously.

"She's been looking for you in past lives, too. She always thinks I know where you are, but you were never there. But now she knows, Morgana. She knows you exist in this life," there's a worried and panicked edge to his voice. She doesn't have the energy to be angry at him for not sharing this particular detail.

"She could've just taken me when I was a child. I don't understand why she's waited so long," she shivers, and it's not from the cold.

"If Morgause was with Nimueh, how come she doesn't remember?" Morgana asks suddenly. Nothing in her life ever makes sense.

Merlin shrugs, "Memory spell? Acting a part so you actively seek her out?"

She purses her lips. _Merlin_. Nimueh doesn't just need her. She needs Merlin, too. Merlin is apparently on the same train of thought that she is.

"She knows I'd follow you if you go find Morgause," he whispers.

"You would?" she smiles in spite of her self.

"You really doubt that?" he lets out a chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation.

"Don't the dragons know something? Kilgarrah said something about prosperity...what prosperity?" she worries some more.

Merlin glances around and takes her hand, "Gaius in this life died before I was born. But he left behind a book of prophecies he's been compiling."

"Let's go. Now," her voice is urgent.

She hopes that book will tell them what they need to do. She hopes she can just be left alone and live her life peacefully without darkness. She doesn't want a destiny or a prophecy. She just wants to live as normal a life as she can.

Fate apparently has different ideas.

* * *

><p><strong>This story is very close to its end. One, maybe two (three, tops) chapters are left. T<strong>**ry and see if you can guess what happens. **

**Please review!**


	8. Darkest Before the Dawn

**Oh my goodness, the feedback for the last chapter was so overwhelming and wonderful. Thank you so much. I hope the final chapters don't disappoint.**

* * *

><p><strong>Darkest Before the Dawn<strong>

She and Merlin are sitting on the ground, books all around them. The coffee table is covered with mugs of coffee and tea, discarded pamphlets, papers, and books, along with a plate of half-eaten toast. The lamps flicker creepily, and Morgana can't help but be annoyed. All of these books, and nothing. The early morning is nearing dawn, as they've been situated on the carpet in the living since getting back from the pub. They turn the pages, scouring for anything that could be helpful. She lands on a page and scans it quickly.

This is the one. It has to be it. She lets out a small gasp as she reaches its end, making Merlin read over her shoulder.

_A land of myth and magic,  
>Once mighty has fallen,<br>Only can rise from the ashes  
>With the magic that created it.<em>

_The battle was won,  
>But the kingdom done,<br>A broken king,  
>With future none.<br>_

_Centuries past,  
>Flesh to dust,<br>Magic fades from the land,  
>Nothing left but sand.<br>_

_Once glorious Camelot stood,  
>All that's left is gone for good.<em>

_The Priestess requires blood,  
>Of the sorceress, sister, the mother, the child,<br>And the one most powerful of them all.  
>He together with the sorceress,<br>The two shall unite in lands forgotten,  
>And send the past back to its delights.<em>

_The past should not exist,  
>And now must be remedied.<br>_

_Fire, Earth, Wind, Water, Air and Magic  
>Leave their bodies<br>In this mortal realm  
>To dwell where they belong.<em>

_Time unravel  
>Time unwind<br>To make-_

She lets out a frustrated sigh. There has to more to this. The end of the prophecy is missing, as the old, yellow worn page was torn out.

"Well isn't that wizard?" Merlin frowned.

"Nimueh wants us for some ritual?" Morgana's brow furrowed, looking concerned and bewildered. Merlin licks his lips, eyes still raking across the page.

"The past should not exist..." he repeats. Had everything gone wrong? Perhaps Camelot was not how it _should_ have been. Maybe all of his trying to get destiny to occur made it go all topsy-turvy and destroy everything.

But why now? Why wait for a thousand years? He reads the page again. Mordred is likely the child mentioned. Sorceress can apply to Morgana or Morgause. But mother? Morgause didn't exactly seem to be the motherly type. And both are sisters.

He turns to stare at Morgana. He and Morgana (the sorceress) are meant to unite, and what, make something? Or _someone_. That's why Nimueh needs both of them. While Mordred and Morgause are powerful, the child of Emrys and Morgana le Fay is sure to be the most powerful being in existence. Yet they don't have a child. They've never had a child. Nimueh needs a new plan.

"Morgana," he croaks.

"No. I'm not-we don't," she sputters, having gained access to his thoughts. Her hand rests on her stomach. She can't breathe. They don't have a child. This is utter and complete madness.

"In Camelot. We..." he bites his lip. They technically did "unite in lands forgotten". More specifically, in her chambers two (or three, now) nights ago. But still. There's no possible way for her to be pregnant.

"Morgana, back then, in Camelot," he starts, not able to make the words come out.

"No," she says forcefully, " I was never pregnant," she breathes airily. It all came back to her and tears welled in her eyes. She remembers being frightened once when her period was late, but it was just a scare, nothing more.

"When, Morgana?" Merlin asks, grabbing her shoulder. He wants believe her, that they never had a child. There has to be some truth to whatever is written. A child. They were going to have a child.

"We loved each other when it was too late, remember?" she closes her eyes. She winces, remembering the final night they shared together before she sealed him into a tree.

Merlin's eyes widen.

"You weren't?" he sounds panicky.

"I don't know. I was a bit distracted with the war going on," she says roughly, bitter, tears stinging her eyes. She could've been pregnant when she died, and she didn't even know.

He pulls her into his arms and hugs her tightly.

"Obviously something went seriously wrong back then," he murmurs.

"I need to know. We need to find Nimueh," she says firmly.

"No. No way. She's messing with powerful magic, and time and space itself. We can't," he shakes his head.

"We have to, Merlin. Maybe she's doing this for the greater good? What if by going back, it means you can tell Arthur about your magic, and Uther would step down willingly," she begins to bubble with excitement. With hope. She closes her eyes and she can _see_ it. Arthur being crowned king, Uther and Morgana standing in the crowd, side-by-side, clapping for the new ruler. Merlin next to Morgana, now a member of the court, smiling brightly.

"Morgana," he whispers, brushing his thumb over her cheek. It seems strange to consider that Nimueh would create a more powerful, loving Camelot. What if she wants Arthur in power so she can attack?

"No. She won't," Morgana answers his unsaid question. She can see her, lurking in the back of the throne room, small smile on her face.

"Then to Camelot, we go," Merlin offers a weak, worried smile.

* * *

><p>They're in the woods, shivering as it starts to rain. It's not yet dawn as the stars are still shining above them. Their hands grip together as they walk past the trees, the dirt, the grass.<p>

"Emrys. Morgana. So good of you to join us," came a voice.

There she is. Red dress, red lips, dark hair, and cold blue eyes. Nimueh. Mordred and Morgause stood behind them. Morgause's arm wrapped around Mordred protectively.

"Sister," Morgause smiles a little. Morgana nods curtly in her direction.

"What do you want from us, Nimueh? Can't you just let us live in peace?" Merlin asks.

"Oh, Emrys. We could have ruled together, making sure the magic would never die," she leers at Merlin a little. Morgana glares at the High Priestess.

"Arthur was a good king," Merlin grits his teeth.

"He would have made a better king if he knew of the truth sooner!" she says harshly, "Imagine it. A land full of magic and peace. No one living in fear anymore. Camelot would live on for eternity. Not just in books and legends, but in reality."

"What's done is done. It's been thousands of years," he argues.

"Yes, and what has happened? Witch hunts. Inquisitions. World wars. Famine. Plague. One nation trying to destroy another. It can all be avoided," Nimueh sounds wistful, if not manic.

"How?" Morgana asks, stepping forward.

"By getting rid of Uther, telling Arthur the truth, magic will flourish. It will never die or be forced into hiding. Think of the destruction that can be avoided," the rain is harder now, soaking them all to the bone. "All the darkness in the world can be prevented. The world will come to a balance and we'll all live peacefully. That's all I want. To live in peace without the fear that my people will be slaughtered."

Her blue eyes are sad and mournful for a split second, and Morgana understands her completely.

"Magic has a price," Merlin says as calmly as he can.

Nimueh nods, "But the benefits outweigh the price."

"What's your price?" Morgana asks quietly. She just wants to go back to the place she loved. Free to be who she is with the man she loves. Able to not go on a vengeance rampage full of violence. She wants to live a life without regrets. All she wants is another chance.

"Simple. You make me member of the court and court Priestess," she says easily.

"We don't want to hurt anyone," Mordred says suddenly, "I am sorry, Emrys."

Merlin nods slightly. After all, it was strange he'd suddenly turn on the man who saved his life all because he tripped him.

"Done," Morgana says to Nimueh, "just a couple of questions. Why now?"

"I needed you and Emrys together. You were always missing."

"Why not take me away like you had planned?" she bites her lip, waiting for her 'aunt's' answer.

"Because then you'd never find your beloved in this life, and I'd be forced to wait again."

"One last question. Who's my father?"

Nimueh smirks, "It's not my place to tell. You'll find out once the spell takes effect."

"No," Merlin says suddenly, "it sounds too simple. There must be something else."

Nimueh frowns and Morgause looks down.

"You will not remember any of this. All your lives, as if they never happened. Everything will just be a fuzzy, hazy dream to you," she glances at the basin in the middle of the circle they had formed.

"No. I'm not giving up my memories, my life," Merlin shook his head.

"How would we even carry out what we need to do in Camelot if we don't have our memories?" Morgana asks suspiciously.

"You _will_ do what you must. Trust me," the High Priestess smirks, "Think of this as a second chance to fix everything."

Merlin and Morgana share a look, before nodding. They may not like her very much, but what could they have in this life? Merlin and his dead-end, menial jobs. Morgana and her studying when all she wants to do is be a sorceress and Lady again. Nimueh grins gleefully, picking up a dagger.

She proceeds to pick up the basin, carrying it to Mordred and Morgause. She cuts their hands, letting blood drip into the golden bowl. She turns to Merlin and Morgana. The blade slices their skin open, making them flinch. She sets the basin back down onto the tree stump and looks up. She begins reciting words of the old religion, and the rain quickens, the thunder strikes and lightening bolts.

Morgana feels like she's suffocating and can't breathe. Merlin hugs her, shaking and kisses the top of her head. She wraps her arms around him as they look up. The stars flicker into nothingness, leaving the skies dark and foreboding. Clouds form a circle in the sky, creating a hole in the whole of reality. Of time. Of space.

"It is finished," Nimueh grins, "It's always darkest before the dawn, after all."

Morgana feels dizzy. She feels Merlin's arms tighten around her, and her vision goes blurry. Everything goes black.

* * *

><p><strong>One chapter left! I got the title of this chapter from both the song in the first chapter, and season 4's tagline "the darkest hour is just before the dawn'. Please review, I'd like to know what you all think.<strong>


	9. Back to the Start

**This is the end, you guys. Thank you so much for your reviews and for reading this story.**

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><p><strong>Back to the Start<strong>

_Regrets collect like old friends  
>Here to relive<br>Your darkest moments_**  
><strong>

Her eyelids feel heavy as she wakes in the morning. Her sleep had been plagued by magic, sorcery, seeking vengeance, destroying everything she holds dear, and finding herself in a strange land with mechanical carriages and large, imposing buildings. But most of all, she was haunted by blue eyes. A boy, no man, who held her heart. She thinks her strange dreams must be a result of the execution she witnessed yesterday. Yes, that must be it.

She thinks of the blue eyed man and she laughs to herself. He was probably a random person in the crowd during the execution. Yet she feels as if the man in her dreams knows her too well. It's silly. She has never met him before. No one could understand her so well, so completely. She supposes it's just her imagination running away with her. After all, who actually had a name like 'Merlin'? She stretches back onto the silken sheets and pillows, feeling worn and tired. Just how long has she been asleep?

"Good morning, my lady," a knock at the door. It's Gwen. Morgana smiles at her friend and maidservant.

"Morning, Gwen," she greets, watching as the girl arranges a light breakfast (or is it lunch, now?) on her table. She's smiling brightly, nearly humming.

"What's gotten you so happy today?" Morgana asks with a small grin.

"Oh, nothing. I just met Gaius's new apprentice today. He's nice," she blushes.

Morgana's smile falters, ever so briefly. She doesn't know why, but her heart feels heavy.

"Oh?"

"His name is Merlin. He's funny. And brave. He stood up to Arthur," she begins to gush.

Morgana's stomach clenches. _Merlin_. So her dreams are becoming reality? The thought terrifies her. That means that she's a witch, a sorceress. A small shiver runs through her spine. Uther would have her head.

"Are you alright?" Gwen asked, noticing her mistress's faraway stare.

"Fine, just fine," she slips off of the bed, putting her dressing gown on over her nightgown.

She sits down at the table easily. As she picks up the cup full of tea, she winces. There's a deep cut on her hand, and she doesn't know how it got there. Perhaps she injured herself when practicing with a sword, and didn't notice until now. Yes, that's it.

Gwen goes into the washroom to draw her a bath and Morgana is left alone to think. Merlin. Why does she feel that all of this has happened before? She bites her lip, unable to eat. She resolves to go to Gaius to get a new sleeping draught, and to meet the man who infiltrates her dreams.

* * *

><p>She hears the door open and assumes it's Gwen. Tonight's the banquet, and she's complaining about Arthur. Does she always have to go with him to events? Can't she just hear the Lady Helen's singing without Arthur and his bored expression sitting next to her all night?<p>

"...the man's a total jouster," she complains as she walks behind the screen. Just as she's about to pull her dress off, 'Gwen' clears his throat.

"Ehm, my lady, I'm sorry to bother you, but Gaius sent me with a sleeping draught," his voice sounds familiar, if not hurried and apologetic. Comforting, like home. Morgana peers from behind the screen. She lets out a little gasp of breath upon recognising him. He's the man of her dreams.

She steps out from behind the screen, openly staring at him. He does the same, mouth nearly agape as she searches her face intensely. Her hand with the cut stings, and she brings it up in front of her. He mimics her actions and she sees that he too has a deep gash across his palm. Green eyes meet blue, and something clicks.

"I've brought you a sleeping draught," he stutters, handing her a small vial.

Their eyes are still linked, and when she touches his hand, a spark ignites.

"Merlin," she whispers. Her mind reels back to bumping into the man outside of a bookstore, him catching her.

"Morgana," the corners of his lips quirk upwards into a small smile. He looks at her as if he _knows_ her, inside and out. She licks her lips, nervous. Her hand shakes, causing the vial of sleeping potion to swirl about.

She fights the urge to throw herself at him, hugging him tightly. Tears sting her eyes. She remembers a spell to make them forget. _But they don't_.

"Sorry, my lady. I should get back to Gaius, and you should get back to, well," he swings his arms towards the screen. It's like whatever recognition he felt disappeared completely. She bites her lip.

She nods briefly. She turns away, and lets out a small gasp upon seeing herself with Merlin on her bed, skin on skin. Her cheeks flush and she hears his footsteps lead away. She doesn't want him to leave. She remembers. Modern day London, her revolt against Camelot. Her deception. She remembers it all. She must be mad, but she remembers. She whips back around and grabs his wrist.

"Is it really you?" she asks, hands moving, cupping his cheeks.

He nods wordlessly, breathing heavily.

"Do you remember me?" she asks, biting her lip.

"I don't know what to remember," he blinks, thousands of years worth of memories fighting in his brain for dominance.

"Merlin," his name rolls off her tongue easily, "remember."

Her fingers rest on his forehead, and her magic flows through her fingertips and to Merlin, calming his memories, restoring them.

"Morgana," he whispers painfully. His head felt heavy, overloaded. His eyes open before screwing shut. He goes limps and lands with a thud on the floor. Morgana lets out a yelp, sliding onto the floor next to him. So this was the price for remembering? The price for getting another chance? If this way the price she has to pay, then she doesn't want it.

Morgana panics. She only has two lives worth of memories to sort in her brain, whereas Merlin's lived countless lives, and is now back at the beginning. Their memories had to be gone because their minds couldn't handle it. He doesn't move and his skin is burning up.

"No. No, no, no," she murmurs, pressing her forehead against his. She tries to absorb his memories to ease the pain. Image after image hits her, making her dizzy. No wonder he collapsed under the burden of all those memories. She kisses the top of his head, murmuring words she didn't quite understand, but knew anyway.

Both open their eyes at the same moment, green and blue mere centimeters away from each other. He gasps for air and hugs her tightly.

"I am never forgetting you again," he mumbles into her hair.

"You didn't forget," she breathes heavily. He really didn't forget. He just needed a jumpstart on his memories.

"What if the spell didn't work? What if we're doomed to repeat everything," she murmurs quickly, panicked. Her mind is suddenly blurred and hazy. It's a feeling she knows all too well.

"That's not going to happen. We know each other, we trust each other. I have nothing to hide from you," he runs his fingertips down her shoulders.

"And I, you," she smiles, "how'd you know where to find me, before?" she refers to the far-away future.

"I will always find you," he grins, "even if I have to wait a thousand more years."

He leans his head down and presses his lips to hers. She wraps her arms around his neck, on the verge of tears. They were going to fix this. Camelot would be great once more, and they would be together. Always.

* * *

><p>It takes all of her self restraint not to stare at him from across the banquet hall. He looks ridiculous in that hat with the feather, but he's beautiful nonetheless. She wears her dark pink dress, the one Uther finds scandalous. She sends a pitying, if not slightly hateful, glare towards her ward. If he only knew of the destruction and hatred that caused (will cause, now) her heart to harden, maybe he would be a better man. She doubts it.<p>

She's wandering the perimeter of the grand hall, carefully getting closer to Merlin. Arthur makes an annoyed face from a few feet away, as he speaks to Sir Leon and Leon's father. Morgana laughs silently at his misfortune. Sir Leon is a kind, honourable man. His father is very much the same. Except, of course, Sir Leon is quiet and soft-spoken, while the elder man could speak for hours on end.

She keeps her pace, watching as Gwen and Merlin chat easily. She can't help but feel a bit jealous of Gwen, but then remembers that she's the once and future queen. She smirks. She'd rather Gwen marry Arthur, so long as she keeps away from Merlin. Gwen goes to refill goblets with wine, leaving Merlin standing alone in the corner. When she knows no one is looking, she grabs his arm, startling him.

"Mor-er, my lady," he's a bit bewildered, and the hat slides down onto his forehead.

"Meet me on the balcony in ten minutes," she whispers, before gliding away as if nothing ever happened.

Merlin stares after her. She is going to be the death of him.

* * *

><p>Exactly ten minutes pass. Merlin steps onto the balcony, startled when Morgana's arms wrap around his waist from behind.<p>

"We're going to get caught," he whispers. He's a bit concerned and afraid of the wrath of Uther Pendragon, but he's feeling careless. He refuses to hide his magic for longer than absolutely necessary. Soon, he will tell Arthur the truth. He's already wracking his brain, trying to figure out the best way to do so. First, the prince must trust him, so maybe in a year. If not more...

"Let them catch us," she smiles, turning around to face him. She stands on her toes, kissing him softly. Their foreheads touch and he lets out a breath of contentment.

"We need to start planning," he bites his lip.

"If memory serves correctly, Nimueh will be back soon," she furrows her brow.

"I'm guessing I can't kill her this time," he says sardonically, recalling how he struck her with lightning.

"No. Not this time."

Music starts from inside, the Lady Helen taking her place singing. Merlin pulls her into his arms and they sway, hearing her voice. Before she even has a chance to relax in his arms, his eyes widen.

"That's not Lady Helen, remember? It's Mary Collins," Merlin releases her from his hold and she stares at him, puzzled, before bits and details of the evening come to light.

She cast a sleeping spell on everyone to kill Arthur. A son for a son. Before she can react, Merlin's already back inside, stopping the witch, saving Arthur's life (again). Uther is feeling kind, and lets Merlin be Arthur's manservant. Morgana snorts. Who would want to be the prat prince's manservant is beyond her. She glides into her place at the table as if nothing happened, and Arthur pouts at Merlin, of all people, being his servant. She fights a laugh and smiles charmingly.

"Oh, cheer up Arthur, at least you're not dead," she points out teasingly, "he saved your life."

His eyes narrow and he shakes his head at his foster sister. She grins and out of the corner of her eye she can see Gaius and Merlin speaking quietly, Gaius obviously upset. Her smile falters and she tries to calm herself down. Gaius leaves Merlin side and he sighs, turning around. He catches her eye and smiles. She smiles back brightly.

They were going to do things right, this time. Camelot would prosper with her and Merlin's help.

Emrys and Morgana le Fay, helping King Arthur lead Camelot into its Golden Age. It will happen, if it's the last thing she does.

* * *

><p><strong>The end. Thank you so much for reading this and sticking with me, the whole way through. So everyone's basically back where they were in the first season, except for Morgana and Merlin, who went through it all already. Please review and let me know what you think.<br>**


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